


Double Trouble

by Mistflyer1102



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bribes, Fluff and Humor, Kids, M/M, Undercover Mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As an agent, Bond knows there's a good time and place for everything. Including attempting to not only tell Q how he feels about him, but also attract his attention for more than five minutes.</p><p>In the middle of an undercover mission while keeping a set of twins in line is definitely not good time, and out of the country may not be the best place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For clintbartonfleek.
> 
> The original NYE Exchange prompt is as follows:
> 
>  _Bond woos Q with the help of children_ , with the following extras: they're on an undercover mission, cuddling, the kids love q, and scarves and layers of blankets. 
> 
> With included fluff, kids, humour, AU (possible teacher au?), and sarcasm.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story! Tags are subject to change, but I believed I've covered them all ;) 
> 
> Mistflyer

“Break! Bond, I said _break! Double-oh seven!_ ”

“I’m doing my best… _ma'am_ ,” Bond growled as he raised his arms to deflect the oncoming blow to his face, the honorific slipping out with a snarl as he took a step away from his opponent, already prepared for another strike. The training mat squeaked as 002, Will to his coworkers, took a cautious step forward, Bond deliberately dropping his defenses when he saw the other agent assessing him. Bond caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye as the second training instructor overseeing the exercise attempted to move to the other side of the two agents, undoubtedly searching for an opening that would allow him to cut into the sparring match. The first, a woman named Kim, fell back to his right flank as though to see Will from his perspective.

Unfocused brown eyes met blue, and then Will struck, closing the gap between the two of them within seconds before attempting an uppercut to Bond’s stomach. Bond blocked the strike and then stepped back, giving the second instructor the opportunity to dart in between the two of them and catch Will’s punch, dragging the agent forward with his own momentum before sweeping the other’s feet out from underneath him. Will landed with a _thump_ on the mat as he slapped out to break his fall, and then he groaned as he laid his head back and remained lying still.

Silence descended in the training arena, broken only with harsh pants from both Bond and Will. Bond knelt on one knee to catch his breath as the second instructor cautiously approached Will and knelt at his side. “Cut him slack, he’s under stress,” Bond said as the instructor leaned forward to take his pulse.

“Are you all right, double-oh seven?” Kim asked, voice notably softer from her earlier command. A former Double-O herself, she was one of few agents who remained with MI6 to oversee the training of others. Bond nodded in response to her question even as he bowed his head in an effort to catch his breath. He heard the rustling of fabric as Kim knelt beside him, and then turned to face her. “At which point did you see Fairbanks lose control?” she asked quietly, arching a brow when he scowled at her.

“The moment he walked into the arena.” Bond had spotted the gleam in the other’s eye as Will pulled his shirt off for the scheduled match, but hadn’t remembered the extenuating circumstances in time. “His wife is out in the field and he’s in charge of three little kids at home. Of course he’s going to use this as an opportunity to vent,” he pointed as Kim stood up, offering a hand to him. “Whoever thought it necessary to perform the annual sessions clearly hasn’t been paying attention to his evaluations.”

“Our orders came directly from M. I’m assuming he at least consulted with the appropriate parties before signing his approval,” Kim said, tilting her head when Bond frowned. “Do you think there’s been a miscommunication?” she asked, glancing across the room to the other instructor and Will.

“No, I don’t think M’s been listening to the right people.”

Kim nodded once. “We’ll take that into consideration for next time,” she said as Bond ignored the offered hand, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to stand to his feet. “Well, gentlemen, I think we’re done for the day,” she announced calmly, her footsteps echoing as she walked away from Bond. “Double-oh seven, your form is impeccable as ever, but I would suggest practicing techniques to end any fights quickly and on _your_ terms,” she warned, coming to a stop near her colleague, who had braced Will’s back in order to help him sit back up.

“Of course, ma’am.”

Kim inclined her head towards Bond. “You’re dismissed, double-oh seven,” she said before turning her attention back to Will.

“Ma’am.” Bond glanced at Will one last time before turning to leave the gym, reaching over to grab a folded towel from a stack just inside the double doors. He draped it around his neck before shouldering open the doors, careful to close them so that they didn’t bang into each other and make more of a racket that wouldn’t help Will’s oncoming remedial session.

_I shouldn’t have had the upper hand today, and all four of us know that._

He made his way to the showers, ignoring the curious glances from field agents lined against the wall, as they waited for the gym to be available for their use. Bond caught sight of the only other Double-O present—001—and, mindful of their present audience, discreetly shook his head as he walked past the sniper. He heard rather than saw 001 step out of line with a faintly audible sigh and retreating footsteps behind him. The field agents, meanwhile, broke out into whispers as they moved out of Bond’s way when he reached the locker room doors.

He showered long enough to clean off the sweat and ease the aches in his joints under the warm spray, glancing out of the showers once just to check the wall clock. Bond had no idea if Will would be spoiling for a rematch once 001 dragged him back out of his black mood, and given that Will’s strengths lay in hand-to-hand combat once he was in the proper mindset, Bond had no intentions of finding out. Not when he had to be somewhere in the next ten minutes, preferably clean and bloodless, in order to get the optimal reaction out of the target of his visit _._

Q always did hate it when Bond tracked anything, including water, into Q-Branch.

_At least I don’t have to make up a reason to visit this time._

After a brief detour to the mess hall to collect a few items, Bond arrived to the double-glass doors of Q-Branch, nestled in the basement of the new headquarters. He resisted the urge to smile as the touchpad scanner immediately switched from red to green once he passed the first security camera in the hall, instead inclining his head as he walked through the small anteroom between the first and second set of doors. The second doors slid noiselessly open, and he slipped inside the Technical Services bullpen, making his way to the first desk on the path to the front of the room. He shifted the tray from the mess hall to his other hand as he flashed a smile to the technician.

“Good afternoon, Marcela, I trust all is well?” he asked, carefully balancing the tray to pick up her paper coffee cup. He set it down on her desk on its coaster before reaching for another item he had brought with him.

“Sometimes, double-oh seven, I don’t know what is more shameful: that you consistently try to bribe your way into the Quartermaster’s office, or that we let you do it,” Marcela remarked as she lowered her headset’s mouthpiece before accepting the muffin that Bond had offered her. She gingerly set the muffin aside and the pulled out a paper napkin to cover her keyboard.

“Or you could look at it as a gesture of goodwill,” Bond pointed out as Marcela scooted her chair over to the side to better reach her food. “A very generous gesture of goodwill,” he clarified, eyeing the other pastries that remained on the tray.

“A gesture of goodwill that usually appears sixty to ninety minutes after lunch on Thursdays and Fridays, fifteen minutes after Q leaves the bullpen to get his afternoon tea when there aren’t any pressing emergencies. Still conveniently timed in case Q did _not_ get his tea yet,” Marcela countered as she reached for her coffee. “For the last _four_ months,” she whispered when Bond opened his mouth to object. “He’s going to notice if he hasn’t already.”

Bond snorted. “I highly doubt he’s that observant when it comes to anything other than his tea or pressing emergencies. I was away for three weeks on that mission to Siberia, and he barely acknowledged I was gone. Just went on a tirade because of that damned submersible watch,” he said as Marcela shrugged a shoulder. “Even if I can get into his office, I get maybe five minutes of his attention.”

“If you say so. For what it’s worth, we definitely noticed that you were gone for three weeks. Peter went through one of the most interesting sugar withdrawals I had ever seen,” Marcela said, offering a sweet smile when Bond feigned hurt. She glanced towards Q’s office, where Bond could see that blinds were drawn. “Although…ever since this current mission entered thin ice territory, he’s been in there for a better part of the day,” she began slowly, brows pulling together into a frown. “Which means he hasn’t had his afternoon tea yet… Kevin!”

Bond glanced up in time to see Kevin jump in his seat, nearly falling out before he caught the edge of his desk and typed in a few commands. He twisted around in his seat, and snapped, “What the _hell_ do you want—double-oh seven!” Bond kept his face straight even as he felt a trill of excitement—he was close to victory—when Kevin’s snarl vanished once he spotted Bond. “Double-oh seven, what can I do for you?” he asked, pulling his headset off.

Bond raised the pastry tray for emphasis. “Pastries in exchange for Q’s tea,” he said, finally smirking when Kevin jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over a cable. “And tea first, if there’s anything I’ve learned over the last four months, it’s that you all aren’t as innocent as civilians make you out to be,” he added, moving the tray away from Marcela’s reach. He checked over his shoulder to make sure that there weren’t any staff members approaching him from behind—it had taken him weeks to learn his new blind spots that the daring techs had discovered—before stepping back so that his back was to a wall. They all knew that Bond wouldn’t risk an outcry and rescue the tray if they stole it from him (only because Q would be irritated with the disturbances), but Bond couldn’t risk losing his only ticket into Q’s office.

Footsteps, and he looked up to see Peter and Kevin returning to Marcela’s workstation, attracting the attention of their nearby coworkers who twisted in their seats to watch. Peter carried the coveted mug of tea, and he stopped just outside of Bond’s reach, pursing his lips in thought as he studied Marcela’s desk. Then he jerked his chin towards the farthest end, and said, “It’s the cleanest down there, we’ll do the exchange once Marcela clears off those reports,” he said grimly, stepping back to let Marcela through so she could collect the indicated reports and tuck them away into a drawer.

Bond shook his head as he moved down to the other side of the workstation, brining the tray back around in front of his body. “I still think you’re all too paranoid about this. I stand to lose too, if I went back on my word,” he muttered as he carefully set his tray at the end of the workstation, matching Peter’s movements as the other set the mug and small plate down parallel to Bond’s tray. Then, slowly as to not spook any of the watching staff members, he reached for the mug as Peter reached for the tray.

“There. His office is still unlocked, has been all day,” Marcela said cheerfully once Bond picked up the mug and plate. She made an irritable shooing gesture towards Peter, who stuck his tongue out before carrying the pastry tray away from her desk. “And if the door _is_ locked, the code is three-seven-four-nine. Make sure you close it behind you, the bullpen and labs are a bit of a hazard zone for his guests,” she warned as Bond started to head towards the office.

“He has guests?” he asked, turning to glance at her over his shoulder.

“Just go. They won’t interfere with whatever excuse you have to visit this time, just don’t let them out of the office,” Marcela said, winking before she turned back to her work, sipping the coffee as she skimmed the latest report.

Bond frowned, but shook his head as he crossed the bullpen, careful to balance the mug and plate to avoid spilling the hot tea on his hands. He paused at the closed office door, and knocked twice before leaning back on a foot to wait. He never looked away from the security control pad, but the light remained red. Frowning, he leaned forward, starting to reach for the panel, but then he heard the familiar _click_ from within the room. Bond slowly exhaled, squared his shoulders, and started to walk forward right as the door swung forward.

“Uncle James!”

Bond used his only second of warning to brace himself as a small blur shot from the threshold and into his waist, grunting when a solid weight crashed into his knees and he felt a _crick_ as his knees momentarily locked in place. Then he staggered back, a jolt of adrenaline shooting through his stomach when the mug shook in his hands and the liquid sloshed over the side and onto his wrist, burning his skin and soaking his shirt and jacket cuffs. _“Fuu-dge,”_ he muttered under his breath as he looked down at the limpet that had attached itself to his legs, his grip tightening around the mug handle despite the pain. “Chelsea Fairbanks. Your father is already annoyed with me for various different reasons today. You going to Medical with first degree burns would possibly drive him to murder,” he growled under his breath as the little girl giggled and hugged his knees tighter.

Bond glanced up and quickly scanned Q’s office, anticipating the three-year old Fairbanks terror that remained attached to his sisters, and never failed to terrorize all and any babysitters. Will consistently grumbled about it when the Double-Os headed out for drinks together…assuming he and his wife could escape for the night. Instead, however, Bond only saw Q sitting calmly at his desk and engrossed with something on his desktop monitor as Chelsea’s twin sister, Mary, perched on his lap with a coloring book and a scattering of crayons across Q’s desk. Q didn’t seem to notice his entrance, which Bond had been expecting, but instead was studying what looked like an email when Bond craned his neck to get a better look at the screen.

“Uncle James! Uncle James!” Chelsea shouted, tugging on the bottom of his suit jacket to reclaim his attention. “I’m Mary, remember? I lost my front tooth, Chelsea didn’t!” she said, baring her teeth before flouncing away in the same moment Bond pulled back to regain his balance. She jumped onto the sofa and grinned at Bond. “See? See my missing tooth?” she asked, voice muffled as she tried to keep showing her teeth and speak at the same time.

“Yes, well, Uncle James hasn’t seen the two of you in several months, so I think he can be forgiven for that small mistake,” Q said finally, his calm voice easily cutting through the din. He glanced away from his monitor to look up at Bond, who inclined his head in greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, double-oh seven?” he asked as Chelsea— _no, Mary_ —wandered back to the door to close it again.

Bond held up the tea for emphasis. “Your staff was beginning to get worried, I volunteered to check on you,” he said, glancing down long enough to step around a few open chapter books scattered on the carpet. “I think it was starting to get a little too quiet for them, present company considered,” he said, glancing pointedly at Chelsea still sitting quietly on Q’s lap.

Q nodded absently as he glanced back at the email. “Will had that training session to attend, so I offered to watch them for the day,” he said, brow furrowing as he wrapped an arm around Chelsea’s middle when she shifted in his lap to reach for a crayon that had rolled to the edge of the desk. “Willy is with his grandmother, seeing that he’s been too much of a handful in the last couple of days,” he added, turning in his chair to attempt reaching for the wayward crayon himself, fingers just barely touching the edge.

Bond leaned forward without thinking, nudging the crayon back to Q, who in turn handed it to Chelsea. Then he sat down in the empty office chair, watching Q for a few moments as Q returned to his screen. Mary had gone back to her books, and Chelsea was starting to doze against Q’s cardigan-covered shoulder As far as Bond knew, Q’s relationship with the Fairbanks family had started at the beginning of his MI6 career, something about Will taking pity on the kid just out of uni and not only providing him with a steady job, but a family to return to if he ever needed the support or escape. He leaned back in his chair and then asked, “Who allowed Will to participate in that session?”

“Bond, he’s only frustrated and anxious, I think, and I don’t quite blame him, given how things have been developing in the last few days.” Q frowned, tapping his pen against the keyboard before he shook his head. “I’m sorry, please excuse me, Bond. I need to speak to M about something critical,” he said, locking his computer screen before he started to stand up. Chelsea whined in protest when Q picked her up and placed her back in his chair. “Bond, do you mind watching the two of them for me, just for a few minutes?” he asked, brow creased in worry as he looked up at Bond.

“Of course, Q.” Bond didn’t even hesitate, quirking a faint smile as Q’s shoulders slumped in relief, and then he stood up as Q moved around the desk, collecting a file as he passed it. “And it’s James, we’ve been working together for almost two years now, that’s long enough to be on a first name basis,” he said without thinking when Q was passing next to him.

He thought he saw surprise in Q’s eyes, but Q looked away in that moment, a faint dusting of pink visible near his collar. “Of course. James,” he said, ducking his head a moment later as he moved past Bond, almost careful not to touch him.

Bond waited until he heard the door close behind him with a soft _click_ before he closed his eyes with a slow exhale; hearing Q say his name, and spoken not yelled, was a rare treat indeed.

“Do you like Uncle Alex? Or do you like, _like_ Uncle Alex?”

His eyes flew open and he looked down at Mary, whose own brown eyes glittered with interest and…something that Bond couldn’t quite identify. It was an oddly unsettling feeling. “What makes you think that there is anything going on at all?” he asked instead, sitting back down in his chair as Mary climbed off the sofa again. “Your uncle happens to be my boss, your parents’ boss, and we’re also only friends,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching as Mary clambered into the other visitors’ chair.

“Really? Daddy says that some git named Mallory is _his_ boss,” Chelsea said, startling Bond.

“And _I_ think you like Uncle Alex, because you brought him tea today, like a present. Mummy and Daddy bring each other coffee for breakfast every morning when they’re not on work trips,” Mary added, kneeling in the seat to better reach Bond’s level. “Mummy also says you always bring him lots of tea, and that you manage to do it when he really needs it."

He studied her for a moment, brow furrowing; he was pretty sure that she was only eight years old, but having spies for parents evidently taught her a thing or two about observation, with an added benefit of effective threats. He couldn’t imagine Tess directly saying that to her daughter, though; Mary must have overheard it from her parents. “Well, you are sadly misinformed as I do _not_ like Uncle Alex as you're thinking,” he said in a firm voice before turning back to Chelsea, who had paused in her coloring to watch the exchange.

“So then it’s okay if I tell him that you like him?”

“I just said I _didn’t_ ,” Bond snapped, covering the burst of panic with irritation.

Chelsea giggled quietly as Mary stuck her tongue out at him. “Mummy said that liars always deny, deny, deny, so I don’t believe you,” she said, grinning as she slid out of her chair. Bond suspected that was coming from one of Mary’s personal experiences instead of something she’d witnessed secondhand. “But I’m going to tell him that you _liiiike_ —” she began to sing as she darted towards the office door.

“ _Wait._ ” Bond gritted his teeth as he pulled out his wallet. “Here, I’ll give you both some money to buy candy if you don’t tell Uncle Alex anything,” he said, nearly snarling the words to himself when he found that he only had four twenty pound notes in his wallet. “Here, split this between the two of you,” he said, handing a note to Mary, who tucked it away into the folds of her dress within seconds. “Is that a good enough bribe for you?” he asked, straightening in his chair as he narrowed his eyes.

Chelsea grinned at him from across the desk. Mary was quiet for a moment, and he looked down at her in time to see her exchange a quick glance with her sister. “Is it still considered bribery if we ask for ten more pounds and I won’t tell Daddy that you nearly dropped a mug of hot tea on me?” she asked, sticking out her lower lip in a pout when Bond suppressed a groan.

 _You. Little._  Bond leaned forward so that he was eye-level with Mary, who raised a brow as she folded her arms across her chest. “That, my dear, is called extortion. It’s worse, but just as effective, as bribery,” he whispered as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket again. He handed over the second twenty-pound note, pressing it into her palm.

She smiled, her mouth curling into a grin as she folded the note and then passed the money across the desk to Chelsea, where it promptly disappeared into her pocket. “Thank you, Uncle James,” Mary said before wandering back to her toys.

Chelsea smiled and whispered, “Thank you, Uncle James.”

Bond stifled a sigh as he rubbed his temples.


	2. Chapter 2

_18:34: Room 207A. Right now_

Bond stared at the text message, hand hovering over the button he’d been about to press in order to summon the lift when his mobile started beeping in the pocket of his wool overcoat. He glanced at the number, worry and intrigue swirling in his gut when he saw that the sender’s name and number were blocked from his view. _Can’t be an MI6 employee, unless Eve wants to play another game. Which she won’t, because she’s been as wrapped up in 009’s mission as much as everyone else on M’s command staff._ Momentarily wishing that he still had his Walther, just in case he was about to walk into another hostage situation at the headquarters, he suppressed a sigh and reluctantly pressed the ‘Up’ button before leaning back on a foot. He glanced at his mobile, resisting the urge to request for details, instead forcing himself to settle back into the mission-ready calm; the conference room was on the same level as M’s office— _threat to M himself?_

A soft _ding_ announced the lift’s arrival, and he stepped on. He was already mapping out his approach to the conference room that would allow him to assess the situation from the safety of the hallway, and then execute a plan of action.

No further messages arrived while he was in the lift, but when he stepped out, he saw that the conference room door was wide open. Even and O’Reilly were visible from the door; she held a book in one hand underneath the table as she poised with a pen in the other hand, her attention solely focused on the book instead of her notes. O’Reilly was listening to something Bond couldn’t hear, but he could see the anger growing on the doctor’s face. _At least I’m not on the receiving end this time._ Bond continued to approach the room, only feeling the tension the draining from his shoulders when he heard M say, “With all due respect, Doctor O’Reilly, I think that is one of your worst ideas, especially since we’re stretched thin in terms of double-ohs abroad versus at home.”

“You asked for my bloody opinion, it’s hardly my fault you didn’t like it. _Sir_ ,” O’Reilly finally snapped as Bond paused in the threshold, and then slipped into the back of the room behind the oval conference table; he recognized the department heads sitting around the table, with the lone exception of William Fairbanks. Bond frowned—Double-Os rarely attended the department meetings, with M there to technically represent them—but as senior officer, Bond himself was expected to be there if the agents felt that they needed one of their own present. _So not a department meeting, but what else could warrant O’Reilly’s presence?_

“Double-oh seven, thank you for your timely arrival,” Q said, his voice abruptly cutting into the argument between M and O’Reilly. Bond stepped forward, inclining his head as Q shuffled a few papers on the table, retrieving a few that slid close to M. “I asked Miss Moneypenny to request that you attend, I had forgotten to mention it when you came down to visit me earlier,” he said as Bond gingerly took the empty chair between Eve and Miller from Psych.

 _Did you really forget?_ “I just apologize for arriving late,” Bond said as he sat down, glancing briefly at Even only to catch her frown. He quirked a brow, and then leaned close to her, asking quietly, “Trouble in paradise?” even as he glanced back towards the front of the table in time to see M whisper something to Q, earning a dark scowl that Bond was used to seeing after every mission where Bond came back badly injured and without the equipment.

“Trouble that’s very soon going to be a murder in paradise, assuming Will doesn’t beat me to it,” Eve replied finally, nodding towards M and Q as she leaned back. She shifted her attention to another spot at the table across from them, and Bond followed her line of gaze to see William Fairbanks dozing in his chair; both of his daughters weren’t present, and Bond assumed that Will’s mother-in-law had taken them home already. “Anyway, M and Q have been alternating between feuds and rows all afternoon, starting as early as the other morning,” Eve whispered, glancing back at the two in question. “I let Q have my seat next to M, he came to the meeting looking fully prepared for another row and I didn’t want to be remotely near them when that storm broke.”

Bond nodded absently, raising a brow when Tanner, seated on M’s other side, coughed pointedly into his sleeve, breaking Q and M out of their hushed argument. “So why exactly are they angry with each other?”

Before Eve could reply, M cleared his throat. “I apologize for the momentary interruption as I discussed a few details with Q.” he turned to the man next to him and said, “Please, continue.”

“Of course.” Q closed his laptop and set it aside, pulling out a manila folder. “Now, as we were discussing the extraction for double-oh nine. The original extraction plan was created back in March. Tess had completed her mission of data extraction, consolidated the data into one package for easy transport, and had even gone as far as to reserve train tickets back to London from Milan,” he said, eyes flickering across the paper in his hand before he pushed towards M, who slipped it into his folder. “However, the target, Mario Rossmiller, decided around that time to return to the States and introduce Tess to his seven year old daughter, Vanessa. So in order to maintain her cover, Tess took the data with her to the States, specifically Laconia, New Hampshire, and continued to live with Rossmiller,” he explained, adjusting his glasses before leaning forward to study something on the new sheet of paper. “That change is what prompted the original extraction plan.”

“And so now, we need to readjust to take into account another change,” Bond said, glancing across the table at Will for confirmation.

“Correct. Our only connection to Tess now is through Vanessa; Rossmiller is so paranoid and worried for Tess’s safety that he has her under constant surveillance,” Q said, grimacing as Will inclined his head towards Bond once. “The original plan had called for infiltration of New Sunrise Academy, a private school near Laconia where Vanessa is currently enrolled. I spoke with my counterpart in the CIA, and it turned out that one of her staffers has a cousin who is the headmaster of the academy. In April, the staffer reached out to the cousin, somehow explained the situation, and now the headmaster is planning to announce a sabbatical to Greece for the fall semester,” he added, tapping his pen absently against the paper in front of him. “The CIA staffer will replace the headmaster, so that’s one foot in the door for us.”

“Well, at least they solved that problem,” Eve muttered to Bond, who glanced at her with a raised brow. “They were at it for weeks, I remember.”

“That still doesn’t answer how we’re getting in,” he muttered back, never looking away from Q, who was now looking at M as the director spoke quietly to Tanner, his face still scrunched into a scowl.

“As I was saying,” Q finally said, turning away from M, who leaned back in his chair with a twitch in his jaw. “In May, Tess risked an email saying that she could leave the data at a drop-off location so that we could collect it while she extracted herself from the situation. We decided to use the school as the location, and she would upload encrypted files, send them to the interim headmaster, and then he would re-encrypt them and download them again just to get them out of the network, and then one of us could pick up the thumb drive and leave. I volunteered to go, with Will as my bodyguard,” he said, raising a brow in Will’s direction. Bond leaned back in his chair, curiosity piqued as Will scowled for a moment before straightening in his seat. “I would collect the data, get fired from my cover as a primary teacher, and go home. End of story.”

“And I am fully able to carry out the responsibility, your…plan changes included,” Will said, tilting his head. “So what’s different now?” he asked, glancing at Bond warily before looking back towards the head of the table.

Q grimaced. “Tess finally emailed me last week after months of silence. As we know, Rossmiller is, erm, smitten with her to the point that he has been pressing for an elopement for the last two months. She finally ran out of excuses, and the, er, date is set for November first. She has informed me that Rossmiller was planning to drop off the radar for an indeterminable length of time to celebrate, so she would disappear from our radars as well,” he said, fidgeting slightly in her seat as M sighed, rubbing his temples. “There is no telling what could happen if we cannot retrieve her at all, especially if we underestimate Rossmiller and he does figure out her cover.”

Bond did not miss the way that Casey Marshall from Treasury and Mark Rushman from Human Resources scooted their chairs away from either side of Will, leaving a sizeable gap between them and the Double-O. No one missed it. Will merely tilted his head again, face curiously blank as he studied Q. “And aside from an earlier deadline, how _exactly_ does that change the original plan?” he asked, voice still calm.

 _Damage control._ Bond discreetly pushed his own chair back for more room between himself and the table as Q hesitated, and then gestured sharply to M. “I do hate taking up most of the speaking time, so M had graciously volunteered to explain the changes that he felt were necessary,” he replied, raising his chin slightly as Eve’s mouth dropped open in shock. M looked just as surprised—and annoyed—but still smiled thinly.

“Thank you, Quartermaster.” M turned to Will, and Bond saw a muscle tense in Q’s jaw. “Shorter deadlines means less time to establish plausible lines of communication between parents and teachers, meaning that Tess may be gone before Q has a chance to reach out to her to start making travel arrangements out of the United States. We’ve also decided that Rossmiller will be arrested and charged with treason against not only the United Kingdom, but the United States as well, given his dual citizenship status between the two,” he said calmly, ignoring Q’s scowl as he spoke. “That means we need to get through to her sooner.”

“I still don’t understand,” Will said, although Bond, watching Q’s fidgeting increase slightly, suspected that Q was more worried about Will’s reaction. Which he wouldn’t care about as much unless it directly affected Will… _and it can’t be the bodyguard duty because he would have said something earlier when Will brought it up._

“Children are faster at making friends than adults, and are less likely to be noticed,” M said, watching Will carefully. Bond tensed as Casey inhaled sharply, realization clicking in her eyes as Eve gasped softly beside him. “Rossmiller would definitely notice if his fiancée was speaking to the new teacher, he knows he’s a wanted man. He would check said teacher to make sure that there were no malevolent intentions. We cannot put Q on his radar due to Q’s status as a department head. Vanessa, however, Rossmiller won’t question if she occasionally brought a friend home from school. Which means we’d need at least a child near her age, someone who can keep a secret.”

In that moment, Bond understood.

He turned to Q, whose knuckles had turned white where he clutched the pen. Will had gone still in his chair, save for a slight twitch in his jaw. Mark scooted his chair a little more to the side, and Bond heard O’Reilly making a few spluttering noises off to his left, but it wasn’t them or even Eve who finally broke the silence.

“The twins are not old enough to consent to that.” Bond stood up without thinking, ignoring the few whispers that broke out among the other attendees. “They are not old enough to consent or understand the danger that extractions usually present.  I suspect Will won’t consent to that,” he said, glancing once at the other man in confirmation; Will managed a jerky nod before he turned back to face M. “And even if it wasn’t the twins, it comes back to the child not being old enough to understand exactly what it is they are getting into. They did not sign up for this. Tess, on the other hand, is well aware of the risks and that she may not get to come home after every mission. We all know there’s an end of the line for us abroad,” Bond finished.

“This is the closest we’re ever going to get to her, we have to at least damn well _try_ ,” M said, straightening in his chair as he leaned forward. “The child would only be carrying messages, be under guard by CIA operatives, and the second the actual extraction comes along, be far, far from the location. The interim headmaster is going to call a professional development day, or something like that, once we have a date for the actual extraction. The school will be empty for twenty-four hours, Tess will go to the school where another operative will be ready to pick her up, and then both will leave.”

“When is the extraction?” Bond asked, casually folding his arms across his chest.

“Officially, October thirty-first,” Q said before M could speak. “That is a Friday, so the professional development day would grant us three days of empty school to use as a base in case something goes wrong on the first attempt.” He turned to M. “I arranged those details those afternoon with our CIA contact, sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” he said, his voice entirely unapologetic.

“I thought you told me that you were unable to come to my office this morning because you had pressing business in the labs, not your office,” M said, frowning as Q shrugged a shoulder.

“I didn’t need to leave the labs in order to send emails. Technology can be very helpful if you used it once in a while, not left your computer to gather dust for the hell of it and then malfunction every other week, tying up valuable technicians to fix it,” Q said, offering a thin smile before turning back to Bond. “As M wants me to remind both of you gentlemen—”

“I could go,” Bond interrupted, leaning to rest both hands in front of him on the table. “In addition to Will. I’ll be Q’s bodyguard, which frees Will to do what he needs to do without detection and reach Tess. Including assessing Rossmiller’s surveillance measures in the States.”

“We’ve already assessed the surveillance measures. A bug can’t sneeze without him or one of his security teams knowing. It’s been irritating me for months now because it’s significantly more advanced and improved compared to the security in Rossmiller’s chateau in northern France,” Q said through clenched teeth, his fingers flexing around the pen as he leaned forward. “Tess has her own bodyguards on Rossmiller’s payroll, and she says that his camera surveillance on top of the bodyguards is so intense to the point where she can’t remember what it feels like to have privacy.”

“So it would be no contact between me and her?” Will asked, standing up as well.

Q glanced down at his papers, as though suddenly unable to meet Will in the eye. “That is correct, double-oh two,” M said, drawing Will’s attention to him. “Double-oh seven will accompany you to take over bodyguard duties while you prepare the escape and arrest on our end.”

“I do not consent to my girls being used like this,” Will half-snarled, fists curling at his side as he stepped back.

“Do I need to make it an order?” M asked softly. “I hate this as much as you do, but I don’t see another recourse aside from leaving Tess to Rossmiller’s mercy.”

Bond turned to M, aware that Will was watching him now, aware that he could also refuse to allow for this to happen; they would both face disciplinary hearings for insubordination and placed on probation. Not to mention taken off this particular mission. He glanced at Will, who seemed to have arrived to the same conclusion. “If you could excuse the two of us,” he said, catching Will’s eye and gesturing towards the hall.

“Take all the time you need, double-oh seven,” M said grimly.

Bond merely inclined his head once before gesturing with his chin for Will to leave the room with him.

* * *

Bond leaned against the closed door as Will paced in the hall, movements sharp and jerky as he turned invisible corners. He didn’t look away as Will turned as though to say something, and then threw his hands into the air before resuming his pacing. Bond glanced at his watch, intending to speak in five minutes if Will didn’t make the first move. Inside the conference room, he could pick out the general quiet murmur of conversation, but no distinct words.

Finally, Will turned to him, catching Bond’s attention. “What more is there to discuss?” he demanded, voice low as he took a few steps forward. Bond fought the instinctive reaction to shift his position to better protect himself, instead stood away from the door. “There is literally _nothing_ left to discuss, James. My girls are not going,” he snapped, stopping in his tracks when Bond unfolded his arms.

“I know. I will say no to M, we’ll both be pulled off the mission, and chances are likely that double-oh five and eight will take our places. I think they just got cleared from Medical after their respective missions,” Bond replied, deliberately ignoring the other man’s challenge by refusing to straighten from his slouched position against the wall. “Who gave you the authorization to go ahead with today’s training session?” he asked, never looking away from Will.

For a moment, Will looked away, shoulders sagging slightly within seconds. “Q did. I asked him to do that because I just wanted to get through whatever obstacles M wanted me to go through in order to receive clearance to go on this mission,” he said, bitterness audible in his voice as he looked at Bond again. “I want to go on this mission, that is also my wife out there, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Trust me, I have not. So you need to stay on the mission. Do you want me along or not?” Bond asked, straightening as Will backed off again.

“Two heads are better than one.” Will swallowed, and then shook his head. “M won’t allow it though.”

“If we refuse to cooperate with him. Here’s what I am thinking. We play along with M for now. We make the environment as safe as possible for the twins, I’ll leave that to you. Tell me what you want, and I’ll try to get it,” Bond said, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Will take a few steps back and resume pacing. “The twins think Tess is safe, right? Because she’s their mother? They won’t panic during the message exchange, and Rossmiller doesn’t know that Tess knows them,” he explained.

“Get rid of the CIA operative, they’ll want—oh, I can’t believe I’m entertaining the idea,” Will said, scowling at Bond before he resumed his tracks. He snorted with slightly hysterical laughter and said, “James, what makes you think that they’ll see Tess as safe? Are you speaking from non-existent parental experience? Or is there something about a previous girlfriend that you’d like to share with the rest of us?” he snapped, already turning away from Bond again.

“No. But you tend to remember something like that when a kid bites you while you’re on a mission just because you couldn’t procure their parents fast enough for their liking,” Bond said, absently rubbing the edge of his right hand along his trouser leg. “The point is that between Q, Tess, you, and me, they’ll think that everything is all right,” he said, nearly remembering in the nick of time to keep his mouth shut about the incident in Q's office earlier that afternoon; that would have invited more unwanted questions.

“The girls still won’t have someone familiar, they’ll be with the CIA operatives, remember? They can't be with Q, M won’t allow Q to be near them in case someone on Rossmiller’s payroll decides to go after Q because they made the damned connection to MI6,” Will snapped, taking a step towards Bond, who stood his ground.

“I know, I know, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Bond said, fighting to keep his voice down. “The point is, if we go, we’ll have a little more time than Q to think of a better arrangement for communication between us and Tess, along with better arrangements for the kids,” he said, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “If we go, we still maintain complete control of the parameters of our side of the mission in the field, and lull M into a false sense of security. M won’t let either of us go if we refuse.”

For a moment, Will didn’t speak, and Bond thought he would lash out at him again. Will ducked his head, jaw working as he folded his arms across his chest and rocked slightly on a foot. Then he stifled a sigh, and glanced at Bond. “Can you promise me that they will be safe? The entire time from start to finish?” he asked, voice soft.

“I’ll try my best,” Bond said, never breaking eye contact.

Will remained silent, face still twisted into a frown. “I—I can’t, if Tess doesn’t murder me, Anna will,” he said, shoulders slumping as he shook his head. “I’ll arrange my last will and testament before we leave,” he added, squaring his shoulders as he inclined his head towards the door. “Are you going to tell M the good news, or shall I?” he asked, the question curling into a faint snarl.

“I will. That way Q will be angry with me and not you,” Bond said, turning to pull the conference door open and slip inside with Will close behind him.

He calmly walked back towards his chair, ignoring how the room fell quiet as Will took his seat and Bond moved to stand behind his chair from before. Will nodded once when he checked with the other agent, and then Bond turned towards M. “Will’s agreed to your terms,” he said, grimacing when he felt Eve’s shoe connect with his shin, the heel sending stabs of pain through his leg. He felt the slow spread of guilt in his gut when he caught sight of Q’s shock, which the latter quickly covered by ducking his head for a moment, expression perfectly under control when he looked up at Bond again. _Did he expect me to stop M?_

Bond silently shook his own head, squashing the guilt before carefully choosing his next words. “Of course, Will’s agreed to your terms under a few conditions. One, he’s permitted to visit the safe house at any time where the girls _will_ be if they’re not at school. Two, we both have a say in the final location, and three, he and I make the final calls regarding _anything_ on the field, including the Quartermaster’s and the children’s safety,” he said, never looking away from M as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the table in front of him. He hesitated, and then said, “Take it or leave it, sir. I will not negotiate on any of those terms.”

“If I refuse?” M asked, arching a brow.

Bond tilted his head, hoping to conceal the sudden and unfamiliar nerves; defying M on the field was one thing, defying him to his face was something else entirely. He had only ever done that to M’s predecessor, and rarely even then. “Will and I don’t go, I’ll talk to the rest of the double-ohs and ask that they refuse to go as well. You can send a couple of field agents to handle the extraction. It’s not something they haven’t handled before, and I’m sure they can improvise since they won’t have the level of delicacy that Will and I occasionally use for our missions,” he said, biting back the urge to smile when M narrowed his eyes at him. Q frowned, the familiar tendrils of suspicion creasing his face. He still smoothed it over when M sighed.

“Bond, I’m beginning to see why you irritated my predecessor on a nearly daily basis,” he said before turning to Q. “Well, Quartermaster, what do you say to that?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“You are all completely out of your minds,” Q said bluntly before standing up. “In that case, double-oh seven, I will see you at oh-eight hundred in two days at Heathrow. Will…I am going to stop by the house in order to drop off your paperwork. You will be leaving a week after us, just to maintain the appearance of the exchange program that the headmaster is ‘starting’. Everything else we discussed remains the same,” he said, collecting his papers and stuffing them into the computer bag. He looked around the table, and then gave a curt nod. “Excuse me, please.”

“Of course. I do believe we’re finished here.” M stood up, Tanner standing up at the same time. “Everyone is dismissed.”

Bond took a step back, gritting his teeth when Eve suddenly grabbed his tie and attempted to haul him to the edge of the room; instead, he reached up and untied the tie, leaning forward to catch Eve before she could stumble backwards into the wall. “I’m going to damn well _murder_ you for _good_ —” she began, but Bond held up a hand in an attempt to stop the building tirade.

“Will and I are working on something right now, you can murder me after we return from New Hampshire,” he said, pulling her to the side to let Q through; he thought he saw Q pause for a brief moment, head tilted in his direction, but silently wrote it off when Q merely adjusted his computer bag’s shoulder strap. “Please excuse me, I need to go talk to Will about the first arrangements we need to make,” he said, attempting to walk past her. Q wasn’t the only one with contacts in the CIA, and Bond hoped that—

“James—”

“I already told you, I am trying to fix this,” Bond interrupted her, feeling a muscle twitch in his jaw. “I know you don’t approve of my plans in general, but give me a damn chance,” he said, turning back towards the door. “Excuse me, sir,” he said as he stepped around Q, who had paused in the threshold.

He didn’t turn back, even though he could feel Q watching him leave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** This part was a bit tricky to write, we'll be back to fluff for the next part.


	3. Chapter 3

_Time rarely heals any wounds, especially recent ones._

As the company car pulled up to the Departures drop-off area at Heathrow Airport, Bond could already see Q waiting on the pavement near the glass doors, shoulders hunched forward to ward off the unexpected chill in the area as he studied something Bond couldn’t see ahead of him. “Thank you, drop me off right here,” Bond said, bracing himself as the driver applied the brakes, and then waited a few minutes to allow a few irate passengers to drive past them before he got out of the car. He walked around to the boot and took his bag before crossing two lanes of traffic, ignoring the blast of horns behind him. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” he said, purposefully moving into Q’s line of vision until Q turned to face him.

“No, no, not at all…I was just thinking,” Q said, shaking his head before turning to face Bond. He opened his mouth as though to say something, and Bond stepped closer to hear him better without risking eavesdroppers, but then Q shook his head again. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about the meeting the other day,” he said, smoothing away the frown on his features as he looked back up at Bond. “Well, I suppose we should head inside, the plane will be leaving soon and I gave Will his documents for himself and for the girls the other night,” he added, tilting his head in the direction of the front doors.

“And how has Will been doing?” Bond asked, falling into step beside Q.

Q didn’t immediately reply, just took a few deep breaths and shook his head as Bond held the front doors open for him. “Thank you. As for Will…well, let’s just say that I’ve seen him in a better mood about missions before,” he said as he reached for the second set of doors and held them open for Bond. “There was an added complication that came up last night, when I was finalizing the paperwork for your return to the country,” he admitted quietly as Bond walked into the main terminal, making a face when Bond turned back to him. “So damn crowded…” he murmured as he rubbed his arms, a slight tremor running through his hands.

“You think this is bad, try flying out on a Saturday,” Bond remarked, glancing at Q, whose frown had slid back into place in the last few minutes Bond had had his back to him. “Q, is there something else about the mission that we need to talk about before we leave? If there’s something that’s going to compromise your safety, you should tell me now, while we’re still here in London in case it’s something that we can’t deal with while in the States,” he said quietly, ducking his head slightly to see Q’s expression better, trying to gauge the level of the unspoken threat. _I know I’ve kept things professional between us for two years, and that it was to protect you from me. But I can’t help you if you won’t help me._ “Is it the flying part?” he asked, relaxing slightly when Q shook his head. “Do you not like flying?”

“I can handle flying, that’s not an issue,” he said, shrugging a shoulder as he glanced back at Bond. “Used to fly all the time for Q-Branch, actually, before I got promoted to R. Delivered gadgets and other equipment to field agents, and always spent a little time afterwards at the destination. Travel discounts are part of the Q-Branch benefits package for a reason,” he said, frowning as Bond felt himself taking a step back.

 _Wait, what?_ “Moneypenny said you hated flying,” Bond said, brows knitting together as he tried to recall when Eve had said as much; he could still remember her saying the words as she walked into his hotel room in—“Macau. During Operation Skyfall, she said you hated flying and that was why she was delivering the warning about the first set of names being released to the terrorists,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as Q stared at him, confusion in his eyes.

He saw the moment when the memory clicked for Q, the shift from distracted worry and puzzlement to realization. “ _Oh,_ is that what she said? That I was afraid of flying? Bond, I was still in the middle of trying to pull my department back together before the next cyber-attack, we thought it would happen while we were still incapacitated. Which, in a way, it _did_ ,” he said, the last part disappearing into a mutter as he shook his head. “But Eve volunteered, and I told her to make up some reason that I couldn’t go because I couldn’t be bothered to come up with my own excuse,” he said, breaking into a faint smile as he looked up at Bond. “No, no, I’m completely fine with traveling by airplane. What I’m _really_ worried about, in regards to this mission, is something that I have no power to change, that no one here has any power to change, all because Mallory bloody _outranks_ me and you damn well _supported_ him,” he explained, turning sharply away from Bond.

Bond reached for Q without thinking, catching the other’s shoulder and pulling him back. “It’s the girls, then. Even with a second, possibly third, double-oh on the mission, you still don’t think they will be safe given the constraints we are expected to work within,” he said, raising a brow when Q’s scowl deepened.

“Bond, Mary and Chelsea would be safest _if they stayed behind_. The only time constraint we really have is before Tess has to elope with the target in order to maintain appearances,” Q whispered, voice strained as he stared at Bond. “I—If I had a little more time, I could come up with a plan that does not involve Mary, Chelsea, or any other child directly in the line of fire! I just needed a little more time _to figure something else out!_ Which was part of the reason why _I_ texted you to come to the meeting. To stop M.” he snapped, voice raising slightly before Bond gestured for him to lower his voice.

Bond glanced over his shoulder to ensure that no one was nearby, and then nudged Q towards the security lines. “Here’s the situation, Q: _we don’t have much time,_ which is why Will and I've been working to get you a little more,” he said quietly as they took their places at the end of the line. “Will and I have been in email contact for the last two days, trying to figure something out. But in order for Will to stay on the mission, he had to agree with bringing the girls along. Give M what he wants so that we can have more negotiating room. We know that one of ours is in danger, she’s closely monitored, and our only connection to her is Rossmiller’s vulnerability: his daughter. We all knew it would look odd if a strange adult tries to communicate with Vanessa, but he won’t look twice if she invites another child into her home,” he explained, momentarily hating himself for using M’s logic against him; _cold, hard, logic that even Q couldn’t argue against then._

Q pressed his lips together into a thin line, and then looked back down the line, jaw flexing. “I just want them to be safe, Bond. I already feel like I failed once with Tess,” he said finally, turning to face forward again.

Bond reached out, placing a hand on Q’s shoulder to turn him around. “What if we stayed with the girls instead of a CIA agent?” he asked carefully, raising a brow when Q stared at him, the familiar suspicion returning to his face. Bond had revisited the idea with Will after the meeting, at which point Will said he trusted Bond more than some anonymous CIA operative.“They’ll be with someone familiar and you and I are both trained to use the weapons that I suspect you brought for this trip.”

“Is that how you got Will to agree? By combining potential vulnerable spots?” Q whispered, sounding not quite as angry as Bond had feared. He looked back again towards the security line, moving forward when the time came “How are you going to get that past M?” Q asked after a moment, risking a glance back at Bond as he set his duffel back on the ground. “Especially when you consider that we’re considered targeted risks as well?” he added, barely moving his mouth as he faced forward again.

Bond shrugged a shoulder as he turned to face forward again. “M agreed to my condition that Will and I had final say in regards to your safety as the twins’. That includes everyone's location. Will and I _are_ friends too, you know. I will just tell the CIA to back off when we arrive to Logan, and I think I have a way to keep the request off the books while we’re at it, just in case M finds a way to circumvent our agreement and sends new orders. The agent could remain nearby in case we need assistance,” he suggested as he casually located the numerous security cameras. “And perhaps you could doctor the footage from the airport to erase potential evidence, just in case M tries to get around his own agreement…” he added, relieved to see a familiar twitch of a faint smile from Q.

“Erasing footage would only draw my teams’ attention to the fact that we’re about to do something that isn’t on the books for the mission, so I’ll leave it. Now the footage from the meeting, that I’ll ask to be saved so that we have a record of M granting you permission to do whatever the hell you wanted…to an extent at least,” Q said after a moment, suppressing a grin that Bond could see forming anyway. Q sighed, and then rolled back his shoulders before glancing at the duffel in Bond’s hand. He frowned, and then asked, “Will you need to check that?”

“No, I always travel light.” Bond tilted his head to note that Q only had his computer bag slung across his shoulder, and then asked, “Did you check any bags?”

“Two. One for clothes, a special one for equipment. Q-Branch has long perfected the art of creating specially lined travel luggage that will not only protect the equipment inside from the airplane’s signals, but vice versa. The lining is made from a special dampening fabric that absorbs electronic signals and anything else that could remotely affect the plane,” Q explained quietly as the two of them moved to the shorter of the two security lines. “And before I forget…” he muttered, turning the strap around so that he could reach the computer bag. “I will deliver any necessary equipment to the two of you once we arrive and settle in our locations. But here is your paperwork that will get you through security here, and again through U.S. Customs once we land at Logan,” he said, pulling out a folder and passing it to Bond.

Bond opened the folder and spared it a glance; aside from the usual new falsified passport, he found not only a permit to carry a hidden firearm, but also signed identification documents from MI6 along with a written, detailed explanation of his duties on American soil. All of the documents bore M’s signature, along with two or three more signatures that he didn’t immediately recognize. “Why identify me if you’re giving me a false passport?” he asked, raising a brow when Q rearranged the remaining contents of his bag.

“The identification and permit isn’t for Customs; that’s only confirmation to any local authorities that we’ve spoken to school administrators and that they are well aware of what is going to happen, and that our presence is temporary. All in case you get arrested by the police,” Q said grimly as he pushed the bag back around his body so he could pull out his own passport. “Ideally, I’d like to finish the extraction long before Tess’s own deadline of November first. The longer we linger, the more risk we’re at for exposure,” he said, stifling a sigh as he looked away from Bond, who closed the folder.

“You’re being awfully optimistic this morning.”

“Yes, well, as I’ve already said before, we’ve been working on this plan for several months now, when Tess was almost done gathering the data. The children’s involvement was quite literally a last-minute change, I planned to point that out to M that he’s actually making it unnecessarily complicated by requesting for additional participants,” Q said grumpily, nearly breaking the bag’s zipper as he yanked it shut. “But we had a row before I could get to that part of my argument, and all bets were off after that.”

A flicker of movement out of the corner of Bond’s eye caught his attention, and he raised a brow when he saw that the couple behind them in line were watching them with narrowed eyes. “I’m sure your wife is moreattentive than we give her credit for, especially if we clue her into it being something that will surprise her,” he said, turning back to Q. He smirked when Q turned back to him with a dumbfounded expression, and added, “It’s not all that difficult for you to hide and surprise her for her birthday, and extracting your nieces from home to add to the surprise isn’t hard at all. Even if you’re that afraid of your sister.”

Q gaped at him before bristling with indignation. “Bond, what the _hell_ are you suggest—”

“And now it’s our turn to move forward,” Bond said, placing a hand between Q’s shoulder blades and ushering him forward. “We might need to wait until after security before we can talk openly about the mission, last thing we really need to invite unwanted questions about your wife and sister,” he said, gesturing discreetly to the couple behind them with his chin when Q bristled again.

“And while we’re on that subject, I don’t _have_ a sister, thank you very much!” Q hissed under his breath as he approached the first set of security agents. “And if anyone’s married on this mission, it’s _you_ ,” he whispered, using Bond’s momentary confusion to shoulder the Double-O towards one security officer before he walked over to the other one, somehow pulling out his passport in the same movement without losing his balance.

Bond waited until they were through security before relaxing again, content to let Q lead the way towards the gate. He glanced back over his shoulder to double-check that security wasn’t trailing them—at this point, they were used to declared MI6 personnel passing through, but Bond once had had to deal with a tail on a previous trip—before turning back around again, catching sight of Q’s still pinched expression. “How long _have_ you known the Fairbanks family? Tess said it’s been as long since you’ve worked at Six, but believe it or not, I actually don’t know when you started working there,” he said, nudging Q with an elbow.

Q snorted. “That’s because I’m careful with my records, all of us in Q-Branch are,” he said as Bond fell into step beside him; Bond allowed him to lead the way to the gate, giving Bond a chance to keep an eye out for potential threats. “But for me, it’s been five years. The kids see any MI6 staff as ‘Uncle’ or ‘Aunt’, and there’s no confusion as neither Tess nor Will have siblings of their own,” Q explained, shrugging a shoulder. “Will offered me his house as a safe place to stay after he got me out of a sticky situation, and then I stayed with them as I looked for my own flat after MI6 hired me. The twins were three at the time, Willy had just been born. Over a little than a year later, Tess handed the nighttime baby duties to me since I was already a night owl from my hacking days and she wanted to sleep,” he said, grinning faintly at the memory before he looked down, fiddling with something in his coat pocket.

Bond nodded, feeling a brief curl of satisfaction at managing to get a smile out of the quartermaster. “Anything I should know about the twins before we start?” he asked. “Allergies, medical related issues?”

“None for either. Since we’re going to be spending quality time with them, it’s a good idea to keep your secrets to yourself and avoid any reason to bribe them. Bribery is always a hit-or-miss with them and they have an uncanny ability to detect when something is valuable enough to be worth lording over the victim,” Q said off-handedly as he checked his watch. Bond grimaced— _now you tell me?_ —but merely nodded in agreement when Q looked back at him. "And watch out for Chelsea, she’s quiet, but I learned the hard way over a year ago that she can be just as crafty as her sister. They both know that Mary detracts attention from Chelsea, which in turns gives Chelsea more chances of getting away with whatever she wants,” he explained, rolling his eyes before shaking his head. “Think of the shenanigans you and Trevelyan, with you as the quiet one.”

“Duly noted.” Bond quietly stamped down the twinge of irritation as he gestured towards the walkway on their right. “How long then, have you known them?” he asked as Q followed his directions towards the gate. Q may have been leading at first, but Bond knew Heathrow Airport well from numerous previous missions. He reached out and pulled Q closer to himself as a swarm of passengers walked around the two of them. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened two years ago with Chelsea?” he asked as he moved to walk on Q’s left, pausing when Q made a noise in the back of his throat and stopped altogether to better reach his computer bag.

“Nothing major. I had gotten a wedding anniversary gift for Will and Tess, and she found it about a week before I was going to give it to them. After several hours of negotiating, I promised that for Christmas, I would give her a Disney DVD that Tess and Will hated. She got the DVD, and I played dumb when Tess asked me about it. Just said that it was what Chelsea had asked for Christmas,” Q said, winking at Bond before he finally fished out his mobile.

Bond inclined his head. “Your secret is safe with me,” he assured Q before leaning over slightly to get a better look at the mobile screen. “Mission-related?”

“In a way; Will wants to know how long he should anticipate the girls being in the States. I may have to be there for the whole semester, but we can always say that they got homesick or actually got sick and had to leave the program early,” Q said, tilting the screen so Bond could better read the message. “We should probably get to the gate now, I’ll check any other messages once we get there,” he said, stuffing the mobile back into his coat pocket.

“Follow me.”

Careful to keep Q in his sight, Bond followed the signs for their gate, only reaching out to Q once when a large group of passengers approached them. Q then pulled Bond to the side of the hall to move them both out of the way. “At least we’re not traveling with the children, we would have faced increased risks of losing them here,” Q whispered as the unaware travelers walked past the two of them.

“Have you ever thought of your own?” Bond asked quietly, almost regretting the question a moment later when he thought he saw something flicker in Q’s eyes before Q’s expression shifted into the one Bond was used to seeing in Q-Branch.

“I think…it would be nice, it wouldn’t be so lonely or quiet when I’m at home, but I’m not ready for the responsibility since work does tend to have unpredictable hours. Tess and Will pull it off usually because they have two family members available for babysitting at a moment’s notice, and then if Anna and I are not available, then they have vetted sitters on call,” Q said after a moment, leaning his head back against the wall as he turned to look down the row of gates.

“Will mentioned Anna the other night. Who is she?”

“Tess’s mother. Lives an hour outside of London, has two dogs, and doesn’t approve of Will’s parenting style at all. Sunday dinner is always an interesting one,” Q finished, turning back to Bond. He opened his mouth again, but hesitated when he made eye contact with Bond, who silently willed him to continue speaking. To his disappointment, Q shook his head. “Never mind. It’s a ridiculous question anyway,” he said, pushing himself away from the wall before Bond could stop him. “Come on, we’re going to miss boarding for first class if we don’t hurry along, and I just want to get this done with. If you want something to do on the flight over, you can either read the mission brief that I wrote up for double-oh two, or help me find an excuse to leave the United States before Christmas,” he said, adjusting his computer bag as he walked down the corridor lined with numerous gates.

Bond frowned—ridiculous question or not, he wouldn’t have minded answering—but he moved to follow Q anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you know who from the CIA will meet us here?”

Q snorted as he stepped closer to the baggage claim, leaning forward to get a better look at the bags that had just started to filter onto the carousel. Bond could still see the dark rings under his eyes from the attempted nap on the flight over, and Q’s hair was still flattened on one side from where he’d fallen asleep on Bond’s shoulder about an hour after take-off; Bond hadn’t complained, had just kept reading the mission brief until he’d nodded off as well, resting on Q’s head. They had both woken up during landing—Bond’s neck still ached from maintaining the awkward angle for several hours—but Q thankfully, had woken up seconds later after him and missed the moment, giving Bond a chance to pour his focus back into the mission.

Q ran a hand through his hair, worsening the mess, and then asked, “Does it really matter who meets us here?” as Bond reached forward to pull him back seconds before two teenage boys nearly barreled into him in their rush to reach for their own suitcases. “I mean, will it negatively affect your ability to carry out your grand plan of switching with them?” he said, moving to the left to get closer to the carousel, Bond careful to stay close behind him. Around the two of them, passengers were either greeting friends and family waiting for their arrival, and Bond had yet to see hide or hair of their promised CIA contacts. “Because if you insist, I can try to pull rank on them, or ask my counterpart to pull rank on them. I just need five minutes to make the necessary phone calls,” he added, the doubt audible in his voice.

 _He still doesn’t think I can pull this off._ “Not really, the CIA will eventually give in if I approach the issue a certain way and keep at it. But if it was a CIA agent I knew, then it would be easier to convince them to keep the change in plans off the record and maybe even procure a better safe house. All without resorting to threats,” Bond said, rubbing his neck before leaning forward to take the first large bag off the carousel that Q indicated by leaning forward to attempt hauling it to the ground in front of them.

“Oh, well, in that case, I don’t know yet. I’ll need to check my mobile first. Once I get the damn cards all sorted out, _this_ is why I hate flying internationally. Phone plans, long waits, sky-high prices, no puns intended, but thankfully we were spared the tears—” his voice trailed off when they both heard a high-pitched shriek that dissolved into wails from somewhere in the crowd, and Bond bowed his head in silent relief that they were going to be guarding two eight-year olds instead of their five-year old brother.

Although—“They don’t get easily upset, do they?” he asked suddenly, taking a step back to give Q room to haul his second bag off the carousel.

“What? No, I mean, they squabble and fight like any other set of siblings, and we’ll have to establish house rules before they arrive, but as far as I know, they don’t get easily upset,” Q said, head turning in the direction of the cries even as he staggered under the bag’s weight; Bond had no idea how he’d managed to get it to the check-in counter at Heathrow, but he still leaned forward and shifted his weight as he took the bag from Q’s hands and around his own shoulder.

“I’ll go find a cart, will you need help with that one?” he asked, pausing as Q reached for the other bag.

“No, this one actually has wheels.” Q pulled the handle out and picked up Bond’s carry-on duffel, slinging the strap over his shoulder. “Please be careful with my things,” he said, eyeing the computer bag that Bond had tucked against his side.

Bond felt the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. “I’m always careful with your things, Q,” he said, careful to keep his voice down, grinning slightly at Q’s narrowed eyes before he turned around and began walking towards the glass exit doors, blue eyes already scanning the numerous individuals waiting with signs and different names in hand. For a moment, Bond didn’t know if Q had given their aliases to their CIA contact, and he frowned when he realized that he didn’t even know Q’s surname…or if ‘Alex’ was really his name or just something that Will and Tess told their children in order to have a name to call Q.

It took him about five minutes to find the sign that said ‘ _James Bond; Alex Winfield’_.

Then he grinned when he recognized the man holding the sign, even though the cap had been pulled low over the side of his head.

“Felix!” he called out, raising a hand when the man turned, and then grinned, pulling the cap off as Bond drew closer to him. “Felix, it’s good to see you again,” he said, accepting Felix’s hand and shaking it.

“Yeah, well, when Carrie, our head technician, said that you were going to be one of the two double-ohs on the mission, I volunteered,” Felix said, grinning as he tucked the sign under his arm and used a foot to pull a small cart forward. “Pulled this aside for you two, Carrie said that your boffin may be bringing a lot of equipment so a cart would be helpful,” he said, taking a step back as Bond heaved the bag into the cart. “Speaking of which…where is he? She said there would be two of you for the first trip, three for the second,” Felix said, frowning as he leaned over to look past Bond’s shoulder.

 _What?_ “He should have been right behind—” Bond stopped when he saw that Q had stopped only a few feet away from the carousel, kneeling in front of a red-eyed boy that was still sniffling, a soggy tissue clenched in a tiny fist. It took Bond a few panic-filled seconds to realize that there weren’t any adults watching the exchange…and no angry parents charging at Q. _Not even ten minutes in Boston. He can’t accuse me of bringing home strays after this._ “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get him. There’s also been a change in mission parameters that I want to talk to you about,” he said quietly, and Felix nodded, brow rising slightly at the tone as he reached and placed a secure hand on the cart. Then Bond headed over to where Q was with the toddler.

“…and we’ll find Mum and Dad, there’s no need for tears…there, isn’t that better?” Q was saying when Bond cautiously approached them. The boy nodded, sniffing before wiping at his eyes with the soggy tissue; Bond estimated him to be as old as the twins. “Here, I’ll give you another one, and take that one,” Q said, gingerly taking the tissue between two fingers before setting it on the ground. He then pulled a clean tissue from his pack and handed it over. “Come on, let’s go find Mum and Dad,” he said, readjusting the bag strap before picking the tissue back up. He offered his free hand to the boy, who cautiously took it before he looked up and saw Bond. His eyes widened, which prompted Q to look up and see Bond as well.

“Oh, James, I’ll be right back. Ryan here lost track of his parents, and I’m just going to go make sure that he gets back to them safely. Then I’ll come rejoin you, could you please make sure our travel arrangements are in order?” he asked, raising a brow pointedly when Bond stiffened his spine at the thought of having to split up.

Ryan’s lower lip wobbled again, and Bond sighed. “All right. Five minutes, and then I’m going to come looking for you,” he warned before turning back and walking over to Felix, who had been studying something on his mobile screen before putting it away. “He’s going to help that kid first, then he’ll come along,” he said, moving to stand on the other side of the baggage cart from Felix, leaning back on a foot as he scanned the crowd around them.

“Does he do that often, help kids while on missions?” Felix asked quietly as Bond rested a hand on the cart, a flicker of red catching his attention; Ryan’s parents, he realized, as the couple rushed over to where Ryan sat near the Customer Service station with Q sitting on the seat beside him. He started to move again, momentarily worried about a confrontation, but Q stood up as the parents arrived, already speaking as he held his hands up in a soft gesture of surrender.

“No, that’s what I usually do. And bring them home once or twice, usually because they won’t let me go once we land in Heathrow at the end of the mission,” Bond said, grimacing at the memory of the one diplomat’s son who had attached himself to Bond’s leg from Heathrow to the hotel where he was supposed to meet the boy’s parents. The father had finally suggested to pull the trousers off and escape the hotel while the son took a few precious seconds to figure out what was going on, which Bond ended up having to do in order to return to Q-Branch for check-in and returning the remains of his equipment before the end of the day.

Q had stared when he entered the branch, and then, when Bond finally turned in what was left of his weapons, threw his hands up in silent defeat before stalking back to his office to sulk. Bond also paid three different technicians almost six hundred pounds total to erase the footage from across the city. Someone had also been kind enough to provide a spare set of trousers and send a staff member to deliver them to Bond, who had holed up in the locker rooms in an effort to find another pair of trousers.

Shaking his head, Bond turned to Felix again. “Listen, there’s been a slight change in the plan,” he said, turning his back to where he knew there was a security camera. “As in, a change in personnel roles.”

“Oh? Do tell. I’m going to guess that I’m about to come down with a fever later that will affect my short-term memory, correct?” Felix said, turning to face Bond so that he positioned himself with his face blocked from the camera behind Bond.

“Sounds very likely. Anyway, you are aware that there are two eight-year olds involved with this mission, correct?” Bond asked, keeping his voice down and barely moving his mouth. When Felix nodded, Bond said, “Their father is the other double-oh on this mission, and he and I agreed that they were better off with the closest thing they have to family out here, and that is Q. I have to guard Q, so while we can keep you or whoever was chosen to help guard them nearby for backup, it will just be the four of us.”

“Neighbors will talk,” Felix warned, putting his mobile away back into his pocket.

“Then they need something else to do if they have time to gossip. And if they can’t come up with something else on their own, I’ll damn well _give_ them something to talk about,” Bond said, lowering his voice when he saw Q starting to approach them from behind Felix.

“As long as it’s not murder, then I’ll look the other way. I’ll be the one in the neighborhood for damage control, along with my partner from the FBI. They insisted on having a part in this without Six knowing, which is partially why Carrie was willing to concede to any of your demands that came up. We’ll be in the yellow house that’s on the other side of your back property line. We’ve done recon of the property, secured the house, and it’s registered under a false name that will lead back to the FBI operative who is the liaison contact for it,” Felix said, winking before he turned to Q. “I take it that you are Mr. Winfield?” he asked, offering a smile as Q extended a hand.

“And you must be Felix Leiter, Carrie told me all about you when we were finalizing the plans,” Q said as they shook hands. He grasped Felix’s hand and pulled him a bit closer before he whispered, “Did James tell you about the new arrangements?”

“Yes, and we can work something out. Let’s get the car situation settled out, and then we’ll talk more before you both leave for Laconia. Got a nice, two hour drive ahead for the two of you,” Felix replied, grinning when Q blinked at him. “Come on, you’ll like what I got for you,” he said, grinning at Bond before Bond took the luggage cart, turning it around to face the exit.

Bond snorted at Q’s bemused expression. “Want me to drive north?” he asked Q as Felix gestured for them to follow him to the doors before he started walking away.

Q shook his head. “No thank you, I don’t want us to get ticketed for speeding on the first day,” he said with a straight face before turning to walk ahead with Felix.

“My driving isn’t _that_ bad!” Bond said, momentarily irritated at the implication.

“Yes, James, we all have nice dreams. Mine is that you return my gadgets intact.”

* * *

Bond couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this far up north in the States.

He could feel his eyes slipping closed, the thrum of the rented sedan’s engine nearly lulling him back to sleep. Felix had promised to bring a second car in case a quick escape became necessary, and Bond had suggested waiting until Will arrived with the twins so he could check the car for himself. Q, meanwhile, absently hummed along to the radio beside him as the car shifted lanes. Bond resisted the urge to smile when he heard Q mutter, “No, it’s not nice at all when someone abruptly cuts you off, isn’t it? Don’t fucking do it to me again,” under his breath as he accelerated the car again, shifting right for the second time before they slowed down on the exit ramp. “At least we’re going to have privacy out here, even though Laconia is a popular tourist destination in the summer. Mum once wanted to come out here when I was younger for a specific trip, but then I got sick that year and we stayed home,” Q said after a moment, a faint smile visible on his face when Bond glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Would you put it past the girls to find some kind of mischief to get into while we’re out here?” Bond asked, tilting his head as Q handed him the printed directions to the safe house address.

“No. They will. That shouldn’t even be remotely close to speculation. They will find something, I promise,” Q replied, glancing at Bond with a raised brow. “Speaking of mischief, we should figure out a cover story for you. I mean, you can pretend to be a relative, but you’ll need a means to get in and out of the school unchallenged in case something comes up and either Felix or I will need to talk to you during the day.”

“What’s your cover?” Bond asked, scanning the directions. “Keep going straight until you can’t anymore, and then turn right,” he said before glancing through the rearview mirror for the fifth time since leaving the airport.

“A science teacher.” Q leaned back in his seat, making a face as he gingerly guided the car around another driver attempting to turn left. “I had to make sure that my role involved me staying at the school until all the students have left. We should refrain from using the escape vehicle Since we only have one car until I’ve upgraded other vehicle, you’ll have to come pick all three of us up at the end of the day, I think that no one will notice—”

“I think that I should pick the girls up with everyone else, and we’ll drive around for a little bit before coming to collect you. Parents will eventually notice that the twins are going home with you, and if they don’t say anything in passing to Rossmiller, then the twins might say something to Vanessa, who in turn might tell her father,” Bond interrupted, shrugging a shoulder when Q glanced at him in surprise. “I can handle two kids for an extended amount of time, I did it when you left me to their mercy in your office,” he said, feigning hurt at Q’s raised brow.

“And did you walk away unscathed? No issues at all?” Q asked, a smirk beginning to form.

Bond studied him suspiciously—had Mary told him after all?—before squaring his shoulders. “Of course. They’re eight, Q. How much damage could they do in two hours?” he asked, thinking back to the two hours in Q’s office; aside from losing forty pounds, nothing else had happened. He raised a brow when Q abruptly turned right onto a side street, and then said, “As obvious as this may be, you turned too early.”

“As obvious as this may not be, this is a shortcut. And the answer is, ‘quite a bit of mischief’,” Q interrupted, easily changing lanes yet again as he accelerated even more. “I don’t want you to encourage them, for the record, to pull pranks and other shenanigans that will result in explosions, broken objects, or anything that will otherwise damage Q-Branch’s budget for the quarter. We’re so close to the end of the marking period that I’m very hopeful about an incident-free quarter,” he said, mouth twitching as he slowed down the car again; Bond caught sight of the unmarked police cruiser a moment later, and relaxed only when the cruiser remained in its place as they passed.

“Well, you have two months to complete this mission. Although, if it’s for little kids, does that mean you won’t be doing any demonstrations of the explosive kind in class?” Bond asked, smirking when Q cringed in his seat, guilt written across his face.

“James, they’re only in primary school. The only explosion I’ll do is _if_ it’s a demonstration of a point I’m trying to make. Otherwise, I won’t do anything.” Q remained quiet for a second, and then his shoulders slumped as Bond tilted his head. “And I’ll let you know the day before if you want to watch. Although if you do come, you need to sign the a new waiver saying that I am allowed to hold you completely and solely responsible if you re-create the explosion on a larger scale on a later mission,” he warned, rolling his eyes with a faintly amused smile when Bond snorted in laughter.

“Whatever makes you happy, Q, whatever makes you happy,” Bond said, leaning back in his seat. He knew that Q knew full well that all bets and the waiver were off once either the girls returned home—since Q would have to stay longer in the States in order to maintain his involvement with the eventual arrest—or once Bond was sent out on his next mission. He also refrained from pointing out that the only reason Q’s budget would most likely survive this quarter was possibly because Bond only had his Walther and a radio, and he didn’t know yet if Q would let him have a look through the large bag that Q claimed contained more equipment.

Bond suspected that Q wasn’t going to let him, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

The safe house turned out to be a small, one level house about twenty minutes from the school; Q had pointed the academy grounds as they passed it while on the way to the house. Bond scanned the grounds as Q drove down the long driveway towards the garage, already noting the potential entry points through the trees in the front since the black iron fence started along the side of the house and wound out of sight to the backyard. Q parked in front of the garage doors, and Bond got out before he could even turn the engine off. “I’ll just check the area, and then join you inside,” he said, leaning on the door frame. “The girls are coming next week, correct?”

“Yes, so this upcoming Saturday. I’ll start making a list of things we’ll need to get for them,” Q said as he pocketed the car keys. “Let me know if you think of something that you think we’ll need, aside from locks and a few other things like that,” he said before pushing the car door open and getting out. “If there’s a threat, let me know. The Walther is buried in a bag somewhere, so no shooting it yet,” he said, stretching his legs before turning to face the house.

Bond nodded, tilting his head when he recognized the frown beginning to form—“Is there something wrong?” he asked, hand slipping into a coat pocket to pull out his mobile to call Felix.

“No, no…just thinking of what we could do to make this place more welcoming for the twins, something with a more personal touch,” Q said, glancing at Bond before shrugging a shoulder. “Let me know if you have any ideas.”

Bond almost pointed out that he rarely gave his own flat in London a ‘personal touch’, so he’d be nearly useless in decorating for children. “Q, you’ve been in their house before, so you’ll probably have a better idea of what they will like. Just leave the bags in the car boot. I’ll get them when I come back from recon,” he said, nodding towards the car before he started to leave.

He stopped when he heard a gasp, and turned to see Q alert and…excited?

“James, you are _brilliant_ ,” Q said, grinning before heading back to the car to snatch his computer bag. Then he turned and ran back towards the house, fumbling with the keys to find the one for the house. Caught off-guard by Q’s sudden enthusiasm--and the sight of a smile he had missed--Bond only nodded in acknowledgement before shaking his head.

With a final glance around the immediate vicinity, Bond left to his reconnaissance.


	5. Chapter 5

Saturday dawned cold and overcast, threatening rain when the twins arrived.

Bond had just finished raking the leaves in the backyard— _“For the love of God, please stop hovering…go make leaf piles or something for the girls in the back"_ —when his watch beeped, a small alarm that Bond had forgotten he’d set that morning. He sighed and then leaned the rake against the house, wearing only a T-shirt and jeans despite the early September chill, and headed inside the house, picking up his discarded jumper as he walked past. Instead of looking for Q, he only tilted his head, heard a faint _thunk_ followed by cursing from one of the two bedrooms, and then headed down the hall. The house was technically one level, complete with an attic and basement, but Bond had already gone through and marked off the areas that the children would not be allowed to enter. Q, meanwhile, had been swamped between fussing and preparing the house and pulling lesson plans together with the assistance of a friend back in London.

“Q, don’t forget that the Fairbanks are about to arrive in five minutes,” he called, pausing in the hall as he heard another loud _thunk_. “You might want to consider either cleaning up or letting me finish putting that cabinet together.”

Q came out a moment later, hair in worse disarray from the brief glimpse Bond caught earlier that morning. “Don’t worry, I can finish putting it together in a few minutes. For the most part today, I want to keep the girls calm. The key is for _everyone_ to stay calm. Felix is bringing the escape car around the same time as Will, right?” he asked, pausing next to Bond long enough to pull off a dusty cardigan.

“For Will’s inspection, yes. Felix said he’d leave it in the driveway if it passes inspection, and I’ll put it in the garage tonight. At which point should I take them outside to the backyard?” Bond asked, turning to follow Q into the kitchen.

“Well, we’ll have to play it by ear. I don’t know what Will want to do, or if he’ll look at the car before coming inside. We should be prepared, though, in case that they won’t let Will go right away so we have to distract them so he can leave.” Q stopped in the middle of reaching for a glass in the cabinet, and then frowned. “That actually sounds awful…you know what, forget I said that,” he said, leaning back against the sink as he loosely folded his arms across his chest. He hesitated, and then said in a softer voice, “I still can’t believe we’re going through with this.”

Bond approached Q without thinking, resting his hands on the edge of the sink on either side of Q before he leaned forward slightly, to get to Q’s eye-level. “It will be all right. I’ll be on the couch in case someone tries to break in, and the girls are right across the hall from you. Both bedrooms have a direct hall leading to the backyard. Shoot the latch on the gate, and you’ll be free after that,” he said quietly, never looking away from Q, who watched him carefully. “We’ve spent this entire week rehearsing numerous escape plans with as many different variables that you could think of. There’s not much else we can do except make sure that the kids are aware of what is off-limits and what we expect them to do. If you get nervous, then they will too. Remember that? You were the one who told me that,” he said, quirking a smile when Q tilted his head at him.

“When did I say that?” Q asked, mouth twitching.

“This past Wednesday evening, when we were sitting on the couch eating the take-away from that diner up the street. I was going through one of the escape plans that we ended up discarding, and then got annoyed when you accidentally dropped some food on the cushions and got grease everywhere. Which I then scrubbed out before bed,” Bond pointed out, blinking in half-feigned confusion when Q grinned at him.

“See? You actually do pay attention to what I say. You just occasionally choose not to listen when I’m telling you what to do at home while you’re on other missions,” Q said, grinning when Bond made a face. “Hopefully, James, you won’t ignore me on this mission…?” he began, concern filling his eyes even as Bond began to shake his head.

“I’m not going to put you at risk, I’m not going to put the girls at risk. I will do my best, Q, but I’m going to need a little help from everyone else,” he said quietly before he leaned forward without thinking, to press a kiss against Q’s forehead.

_Ding-dong!_

Bond pulled away, both relieved and annoyed that the doorbell had echoed through the house before he could do something they would probably both regret later. Q’s cheeks were red, but he straightened his spine and fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking anywhere other than Bond. “I’m nowhere near presentable, I’ll be right back,” he muttered as he edged to the side to better walk around Bond, footsteps echoing as he headed out of the kitchen and back down the hall.

Bond shook his head, suppressing a sigh before he went to the front door, checking through the small window to confirm that it was Will before he reached over and pulled it open. “Will,” he greeted, inclining his head to the other man before he glanced down to see both twins holding their father’s hands. Will looked as tired as Bond felt, and Mary was looking curiously around the porch as Chelsea fidgeted in place. Bond inclined his head towards Will and said, “Please, come in. Q's—”

“ _Uncle Alex!_ ”

Bond stepped to the side right as both twins released their father’s hands and barreled straight into the house, shrieking for Q as coats landed on the floor and footsteps thudded into the house; Mary broke off into the kitchen and Chelsea thudded down the hall, voices echoing in the house as they called for Q. Bond nearly swore when a cartoon-covered backpack nearly landed on his foot, and then raised a brow when Will quietly snorted under his breath before kneeling to pick up the backpack. “I’d say I’m sorry for the chaos you two are about to deal with for the next two months, but I’m really not,” he remarked, setting the backpack to the side of the door before picking up the second one.

“Q’s just getting dressed into something that’s not covered in dust, he’ll be out in a few minutes,” Bond said, moving around Will to drag in the two small suitcases that remained out on the porch. He glanced across the lawn to see that one car were parked against the curb, and the other, which he recognized as the sleek silver Audi that Q had requisitioned as their get-away vehicle, was parked in the driveway. Felix was standing near the vehicle by the curb, talking to the driver , and Bond waved when Felix glanced back at the house. “Did you check the escape car already, or will you be doing that before you leave?” he asked, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Already did. I want to leave quickly so that we reduce the chances of having a pair of octopi making things harder than they already are,” Will said, faint traces of bitterness still audible in his voice as he knelt and opened one of the backpacks, examining the contents before zipping it back up again. “Thank you for bringing those in,” he said, nodding to the two suitcases as he stood back up again, suppressing a sigh.

Bond inclined his head once in acknowledgement. “Q had the idea to make this place look as close to home as possible, so they’ll be sharing a bedroom,” he said, grimacing when he heard Chelsea shriek “ _Mary!”_ followed by a familiar yelp and _thunk_.

“Chelsea, wait for me!” Mary yelled back, reappearing from the dining room. Bond raised a brow when he realized that her boots were missing; he glanced at Will to find that the other man was suppressing a laugh himself.

“You’re going to be getting used to picking up after them really quickly, Tess and I are still trying to get them to pick up after themselves,” he said as he walked around Bond, prompting the latter to follow him. “Mud, water, this carpet isn’t going to be as white as it is now by the time you all leave,” he said, leaning down to pick up the small pair of rain boots and moving them back to the mat by the front door. “I bet you ten quid.”

Bond snorted. “I’m not taking that bet,” he said, leaning against bookcase that Q had filled with odds and ends over the past few days.

Will nodded. “Good idea.” He ran a hand through his hair, and then shook his head. “All right, so, um, the girls’ clothes are in their suitcases, they both brought two stuffed animals each,” he said, gesturing to the suitcases. “I brought the Spongebob nightlight for the hall, so they don’t trip in the dark, and they both get a gummy vitamin at breakfast. Only one a day, it’s not candy,” he said, wringing his hands as he looked between the bags. “Uh, no food allergies for either of them, but Chelsea is a picky eater; don’t negotiate meals with her. It will never end if you do. If she doesn’t eat, just tell me and I’ll deal with it when I come to visit,” he said, glancing at Bond as his voice dropped into a murmur.

“All right, duly noted.” Bond turned right as Q walked in, still looking a little disheveled in a sweatshirt and jeans as he carried Chelsea while Mary trailed along behind him. “Chelsea, do you want to take your shoes off and hang your coat up?” he asked, raising a brow when Chelsea stuck her lower lip out, a pout beginning to form.

“Chelsea Anne Fairbanks, put your shoes away and hang up your coat. Mary, go hang up your coat right now. Then you can go sit with Uncle Alex,” Will said, brow furrowing when Mary swelled up slightly in indignation, but Bond saw the moment in her eyes when she reconsidered defying her father and deflated again.

“Yes, Daddy,” she mumbled as she walked around Q, who set Chelsea down on the ground before he walked over to the bookcase, reaching up to the top shelf to pull down a small, paper-wrapped package; Bond hadn’t seen it before, but Q was careful to keep it close to his body, away from the girls’ line of sight.

“William,” Q said, inclining his head to Will, who offered a stiff nod in response. “I have this for you, wait until you’re alone to open it. It has your specialized equipment, along with a backup mobile and a recording that explains how to use the few weaponry pieces,” he said, voice dropping as he pressed the box in Will’s hands.

“Thank you, Alex. James,” Will said, glancing at Bond before tucking the package away. “Thank you both for doing this...even if I still don’t completely agree with any of it,” he said, directing the last part under his breath at Bond, who raised a brow, but refused to take the offered bait. “Can I just go over a few house rules with them, before I leave?” he asked, and Bond nodded as Q retreated from the pair of agents.

“Of course,” Bond said, leaning back on a foot as both girls ran back to Q, who had settled on the couch facing the two agents. He gestured for Will to follow him, and then said, “All right, there are a few ground rules that we all have to follow while we’re in this house,” he said, stepping back to let Will move forward.

“Yes, and we’re going over them while Daddy is still here so that he knows what is going on,” Q said, nearly curling into a ball when Mary jumped onto the nearest cushion with a squeal, rolling and landing in his lap a second later. Bond sucked in a breath when Q let out an unfamiliar wheezing sound between clenched teeth as he took the full impact from Mary’s weight, his body curling forward slightly. Bond shifted in place as Will cringed, but Bond still cleared his throat and started to approach Q, who silently shook his head before Bond could get close to him. “Starting with no running or jumping on people,” Q managed to say a moment later, tapping Mary’s nose for emphasis. “Just like at home.”

“But _why_ do we have to go over the rules, Uncle Alex?” Mary asked as she obediently scooted back to the free cushion next to Q, scrambling when Chelsea ran towards them. “Daddy already told us the rules when we were in the car— _no, I’m sitting here!”_

“I wanted to sit there!” Chelsea shouted back as she tried to jump on top of her sister, sliding off a moment later when Mary reasserted herself in the seat. “Daddy!”

“Chelsea, there’s another seat on Uncle Alex’s other side. Mary, please remember that you promised me that you would listen to Uncle James and Uncle Alex,” Will said, frowning as he moved to stand closer to the couch. “Same goes for you Chelsea, I don’t want to give Mummy a bad report when she gets home,” he said as Bond moved to stand next to him. “And please also remember that I’m going to talk to both Uncle James and Uncle Alex about your behavior once a week, and that they’re going to tell me _everything_ that’s going on,” he warned, kneeling slightly as he looked between the two of them.

“We’ll be keeping with the same rules that you have at home, and they will apply to both Uncle James and me as well,” Q said, rubbing Mary’s back as he brushed some of Chelsea’s hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind an ear. “No lying, no swearing, no hitting, no biting, no yelling in the house,  _definitely_ no running or jumping onto people, and no throwing anything inside the house,” he said, arching a brow at Chelsea when her lower lip trembled. “And I will know the difference between real and crocodile tears, so don’t even think about trying to blackmail me like that.”

Will opened his mouth, seemed to think better of his own words, and then closed it again. “All right, so I’m not the only one who gets blackmailed. That’s good to know, I thought they were just making things difficult for me because I confiscated their DVD of _Frozen_ a few months ago,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he squared his shoulders. “Tess was a hell of a lot better at the whole discipline thing…”

Bond glanced at Will, his remark about the ‘no swearing’ rule dying in his throat as he stared at the other agent. Instead of calling attention to Will’s words, however—and wondering what the _hell_ the girls could have on their own father to even dare attempt such a thing—he quickly turned back to the twins and said, “There are a few additional rules. One, you do _exactly_ as Uncle Alex and I say, and you do not question us. If I tell you to run, you run into the woods and keep going until you see a yellow house. That belongs to a family friend named Felix. If I tell you to hide and be quiet, I don’t want to hear a _peep_ from you,” he said, glancing briefly at Q for confirmation. Q was frowning slightly, but rubbing both Chelsea’s and Mary’s backs as they stared at Bond with wide eyes.

“Also, if you’re going to see Uncle Felix, and remember he’s in the yellow house, then you _stay_ with Uncle Felix until either Alex, James, Scarlett, Thomas or I come to get you. Aunt Scarlett or Uncle Thomas may come a little later to get you, they will take you right back to London and to Nana, all right?” Will added, voice and smile soft as he looked at his daughters with a unfamiliar fondness in his eyes. And perhaps only Bond saw the minute twitch of Will’s jaw when he glanced over at him— _Scarlett and Thomas are his contingency plan if the three of us are all killed_. Bond remembered Will saying that he'd been coming up with a contingency plan, but hadn't mentioned the particulars to Bond at the time. Will, meanwhile hesitated, swallowing once before he said, “Mummy may not be done with her work trip then, so I don’t know if she’ll come home with you at that time. Do you clearly understand me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” both girls said at once, although Mary’s shout nearly drowned out her sister’s whisper.

“Are you going to follow Uncle James’s instructions?” Will asked, narrowing his eyes when Mary opened her mouth as though to speak, but closed it a moment later.

“Yes, Daddy,” Chelsea said first, smiling shyly at Bond before she buried her face into Q’s shoulder.

“Yes, Daddy,” Mary finally added, her tone greatly subdued.

“Good. Now listen,” Bond said, kneeling slightly to join Will at their eye-level. “There is a chance we could see your mother here, while you go to school here in the States. She is still working, so we can’t bother her, all right? She can’t even say hi, so she’ll probably pretend that you’re invisible…all right?” he said, watching their faces for their reactions; he had no idea if they understood him, or if Mary was only agreeing to the two men at whim by this point. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Will’s fist tightening at his side, but then relax a moment later. _He may not even spare Rossmiller’s life, if he gets the chance to be that close to him._

“Can I pretend she’s invisible?” Mary asked, tilting her head. “If Mummy pretends I’m invisible, can I pretend she’s invisible?”

“Yes,” Will said before Bond could respond. “That’s how the game works. You both pretend the other is invisible, and the first one who speaks to the other loses the game. If the two of you can win, then we’ll go to France for a week over the summer, all right?” he added, and Chelsea promptly pulled away from Q’s shoulder, perking up in interest. Will hesitated, and then said, “But listen. Uncle Alex and Uncle James are on your team, they’re going to help you. But remember, you’re only playing this game with Mummy and Uncle James and Alex. If I find out that you’re causing a ruckus in the classroom because you’re insisting that the teacher can’t see you, then that counts as misbehaving,” Will warned as he glanced down at Bond, who discreetly nodded once. Will took a shuddering inhale, and then said, “I’m going to try and visit every weekend, okay? I can’t promise anything, but I’m going to try. Right now, the plan is to go home in November, but we may leave sooner, do you understand?”

“Okay!” Mary chirped, and she grinned at Q, who managed a fond smile in response. Chelsea made a soft hum of acknowledgement, biting her thumbnail until Q gently pried her hand out of mouth and wrapped it in his own.

Bond swallowed, ignoring the quiet flare of sudden nerves in his stomach: the discussion had so far gone smoothly without the massive temper tantrum that Q had quietly feared all week. _Is there a catch, or am I overreacting? Or has it not happened yet?_ He stood up then, Will following him a few seconds later. “There’s one last rule. Neither of you are allowed in either the attic or the basement. That will count as misbehaving as well, and your father _will_ talk to you about it if Alex or I have to tell him that you disobeyed that rule,” he warned as he stood up again and turned to Will for confirmation, who nodded once in agreement. “You will both start school on Monday, I will be dropping you off and picking you up. Uncle Alex is going to be there working as a teacher, so he may not be able to talk to you during the day,” he said, folding his arms across his chest when Chelsea abruptly raised her hand. He frowned when he heard Will sigh beside him, but he still asked, “Yes?”

“Why can’t we go into the attic or the basement?” Chelsea asked, tilting her head.

“Because I said so,” Bond said, flexing his jaw when Mary raised her hand. “Yes?”

“If I lose a ball into the basement, can I go get it?” she asked, mischief visible in her eyes as she shifted her position on the cushion.

“No, because you shouldn’t be playing with balls in the house in the first place. If you need something from the basement or attic, you ask Uncle James or me to get it for you,” Q said, frowning at her as she settled back into her seat.

Will nodded, swallowing as he rubbed his hands together. “Well, I think that may be it, I should probably be going. Rachel, she’s the FBI agent with Felix, she was going to show me where they have a second safe house closer to Rossmiller. It’s in the city of Laconia proper, I should really get going so I can start running my own reconnaissance,” he said, turning to Bond. “I’ll be within phone reach, I’ll let you know if I get through to Tess somehow…it can’t be as impossible as Q made it out to be, there has to be another way,” he said, jaw flexing as he kept his gaze trained on Bond.

“Just don’t blow your own cover so soon, it will be difficult at this point to get you re-instated with a new cover with Q out here and not back home where he can easily requisition the necessary paperwork,” Bond warned, and Will nodded.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” With a suppressed sigh, Will turned back to the couch and knelt again. “Well, girls, I’m going now, but I’ll see you next weekend, all right? Please behave for Uncle James and Uncle Alex, I want good reports,” he said quietly as Mary slid off the couch while Chelsea scrambled to join her, nearly elbowing Q in the ribs in the process.

Q calmly stood up as the girls ran into their father’s outstretched arms. “Chelsea, Mary; James and I will be outside in the backyard when you’re done in here, there are a few nice leaf piles waiting for someone to jump into them,” he said, grinning slightly when Mary turned back to him, visibly perking up at the thought. He inclined his head when Will mouthed ‘ _thank you_ ’ over Mary’s shoulder, and then he gestured for Bond to follow him as Will pulled the twins into a crushing embrace.

Bond didn’t need Q’s signal to leave, he knew that Will needed the last few minutes alone with his daughters without further explanation. He remained close behind Q as Q led the way through the small house to the sliding glass doors that opened to the patio, and then closed the door once he’d stepped outside. Q hugged himself as though to ward off an unseen chill, and Bond pulled his own jumper off without thinking and pressed it into Q’s hands. “So we have the girls, Will can visit when he likes, we have an escape car, and with all of that, we can control the mission variables immediately surrounding us, including the key variables that are the twins,” he remarked quietly, mouth twitching when he recalled the meeting. “M is going to be furious when he finds out exactly how much we altered his initial ideas.”

“I don’t bloody care.” Q hesitated, and then tried to offer the jumper back. Bond shook his head, taking a step away from Q. He sighed, and then began to pull on the jumper. “I texted you that day,” he said finally, getting his head through the neck hole before slipping his arms into the sleeves. “I texted you that day as a last ditch attempt to stop M from including the girls in his plan. I’ve noticed over the years how the nine of you interact, and you were the first person I thought of that had the best chance to talk M into another option,” he admitted quietly, brow furrowing as he stared across the lawn.

Bond remained silent for a few moments, ear trained for the pattering of feet behind them. He shook his head and said, “When we were in the hall, I just told Will what would happen with each decision we made, and what the ultimate outcomes would most likely be. I don’t know what M originally wanted, but I tried to get enough for M to approve, and for Will to be not quite as worried about it. Even if M will be irritated with the new changes once he finds out, but I’ll take the fall for that if he decides to retaliate.”

“I know,” Q said, still staring straight ahead. He frowned at something, and then said, “Maybe we should have made that fence higher.”

 _What?_ Bond glanced over at the fence, feeling momentarily thrown by the swift change in topic. He couldn’t ask about Q’s remark either; he could already hear Mary calling for ‘Uncle Alex’. With a sigh, he took a few steps back and opened the glass door. “We’re outside!” he called, and then stood back as he heard the girls approaching them.

_We’ll get through this, one day at a time._


	6. Chapter 6

“ _No!_ I _don’t_ want to go to school in the States!”

Bond flinched at the shrill voice, glancing at the wall clock across the front room as he closed the front door behind him. He peeled his T-shirt off, the warmth of the house making the sweat against his skin feel stickier than usual, and then he reached down and pulled his duffel out from underneath the couch. He managed to yank on a clean shirt right as Chelsea came padding down the hall, still wearing her teddy-bear printed pajamas and dragging one of her stuffed animals behind her. Bond knelt behind the couch as she paused, and then he heard her squeal and start running again as heavier footsteps— _Q_ —came after her. Bond nearly launched himself from behind the couch, remembering at the last moment to slow down before he used an arm to catch Chelsea around her waist, wincing at the ear-splitting screech a moment later. “Got her,” he said right as Q managed to skid to a stop.

“Oh, good, wonderful. Um, right. Mary woke up right after you left, so we’ve been doing this all morning,” Q said, waving a hand back in the general direction of the bedroom, where Bond could still hear faint sobs. Q still wore his own pajamas, hair badly mussed as he ran a hand through the strands. “Here, I can take Chelsea—”

“No, you still need to get dressed and go into work before us. I’ll deal with it,” Bond said without thinking, With a grunt, he shifted his grip around Chelsea’s middle and picked her up, earning a few soft giggles that turned into a yelp when the stuffed animal abruptly fell from her fingers. “I’ve handled much worse than two little girls in the past, we’ll all be done soon.”

“Are you sure? I can help today, it’s the first real day for all of us…” Q began, glancing uncertainly back down the hall.

 _And why is it that yesterday doesn’t count? I nearly couldn’t move last night after being the human play structure for several hours._ He’d been about to back out too, when he noticed Q was trying not to laugh, and then impulsively changed his mind a moment later, just to see Q smile more.Bond gritted his teeth as Chelsea wiggled in his grip, making soft whimpers as she strained to reach for the stuffed animal. “Q, go get dressed and ready to go. You can’t really tell the school that you’re late on your first day because the children were misbehaving since as far as they know, you don’t have any,” he said, reflexively shifted Chelsea again to better support her, and then he gingerly knelt to pick up the fallen stuffed animal. He bit back a growl at the numerous aches and pains that sparked throughout his body with each movement, but managed to catch the toy’s paw.

“Yes, well, I thought it would be easier for everyone around.” Q glanced back down the hall, grimaced, and said, “I’ll go try to talk to Mary one last time, and then I’ll get ready to leave for work.”

“Just think about your chances of escape in a timely manner first, and then go talk to her,” Bond said, handing the stuffed animal back to Chelsea. She held onto it for a few seconds and then let it drop as soon as he started to walk towards the hall. “Again?” he muttered under his breath, backing up a few paces. He started to step on the animal’s paw by accident, earned a squeal in his ear for his efforts, and then grudgingly picked it up again. “Hold onto it…got it?” he asked, letting go once Chelsea enthusiastically nodded. Then he started to walk back down the hall.

_Fwump!_

He closed his eyes when he heard a soft object land on the ground behind him, and counted to ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. All the while ignoring Chelsea’s stifled giggles. He started to move forward again, but Chelsea let out a panicked whine, and he gritted his teeth before turning around and scooping up the stuffed animal. “Do. Not. Drop. It,” he warned, just barely keeping his irritation inaudible right as he heard several horn blasts. _Felix._ The CIA agent had agreed to take Q into work when he and Bond had talked last night, which would give the CIA agent a chance to be on school grounds for his own reconnaissance in case he needed to be there in an emergency. “Q! Your ride is here!” Bond shouted as Chelsea hugged the stuffed animal closer.

“Thank you for telling me!” Q called down from his bedroom.

Bond then heard a faint _thunk,_ and then suddenly Mary yelled, “Uncle James! Uncle Alex just said a bad word!”

 _At least I wasn’t the first one to do it._ Bond shifted his grip on Chelsea when he saw something flickering in the sunlight outside, and grimaced when he saw a familiar car pulling up to the curb. Q reappeared a few moments later from the bedroom, hobbling slightly and favoring his right leg as he wore a pinched expression, a bundle of clothes tucked under his arm. “Mary is now hiding in the blankets, just pick her up or something. She’s not crying anymore, I may or may not have told her that she’ll get to pick dinner tonight if she doesn’t give you any trouble,” he said, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Bond heard the _snickt_ of the lock turning in place, and sighed; _still have to get Mary now._

He set Chelsea down on the ground right as she dropped the stuffed animal again. “That’s it, you’ll get it back later,” he said, snatching the stuffed animal before she could grab it and carrying it over to the bookshelf near the front door. “Show me you can follow directions, and then you’ll get it back,” he said, pausing when he saw that she had a deep-set scowl, with the beginning glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“No, I want it back _now_!” she snapped, stamping her foot before folding her arms across her chest. She sniffled, using the back of her hand to wipe her nose as the first few tears began to fall down her cheeks.

Bond started to reach for it; one upset child, he could handle on his own. Two was another story, and a situation he wasn’t too eager to face in that moment.

The bathroom door opened and Q stumbled out, pulling his last sock on before grabbing his tie from inside the room. “James, don’t you _dare_ touch that toy,” he warned, and Bond held his hands up in faux surrender. Q turned to Chelsea and knelt down in front of her. “Do you understand why you lost the stuffed animal?” he asked, voice suddenly calm and almost too soft for Bond to hear.

She shook her head, sniffling.

“You lost it because you did not listen to Uncle James. You will get it back when you do as Uncle James says _without_ crying, stomping your feet or talking back to him,” Q said firmly, moving to remain in Chelsea’s line of sight as she bowed her head, lower lip trembling. “Do you understand now why he took your stuffed animal away?” he asked, tilting his head when Chelsea looked up at again.

She nodded shakily in response.

“Are you ready to apologize?”

Chelsea’s lower lip wobbled, but she nodded. Q stood up, stepping aside so that she could approach Bond. “I’m sorry, Uncle James. For not listening to you,” she mumbled, voice barely audible even when James knelt to her level.

Bond nodded once, catching Q’s inclined nod towards her. “Thank you. Now go get dressed.”

Q moved aside yet again as Chelsea turned and scampered away, and he draped his tie around his neck as he turned to face James. “All right. Their lunches are on the counter, your coffee is on the counter. I’m not entirely sure how you like it so I left the cream and sugar out as well. Chelsea can have her stuffed animal back once she does as you ask, but I wouldn’t recommend letting her take it to school. I’m calling Eve for a status check once I get to the school, do you want me to pass along any messages?” he asked, smirking when Bond gritted his teeth.

“Just do me a favor and do not tell her _anything_ about me and these two, she will ask,” Bond said grimly. He opened his mouth to continue, but stopped when he heard a _clonk_ , and then silence abruptly fell on the other side of the house. He couldn’t hear even a whimper from either the girls’ bedroom or Q’s room.

Resisting the urge to reach for the absent Walther, Bond murmured, “Excuse me,” and then started walking down the hall, checking the bathroom to make sure that no children had snuck in while he was talking to Q. He could hear Q following him, the floorboards creaking until he gestured sharply for Q to wait back in the living room. The girls’ room—already messy with bedding and toys on the floor—was empty and devoid of life. Bond even went inside to check underneath the bed and found nothing but two empty suitcases and a stuffed rabbit that Mary had dropped some time in the night and had yet to rescue. Swallowing back his nerves, Bond calmly turned towards Q’s room, already preparing for an ambush as he started to reach for the knife he knew Q had hidden on top of the door-frame.

_Fwump!_

Bond staggered forward when a soft missile smacked between his shoulder blades. Momentarily disoriented at the unusual lack of pain, he turned around and looked down to find a pillow on the ground at his feet. “Q, you should go while you still can, this might take us a while,” he said, rolling his shoulders back as he surveyed the room; Chelsea was nowhere in sight, but he thought he could hear faint giggles on the other side of the bed. Mary, eyes still puffy from crying earlier, remained sitting up in Q’s bed, looking torn between guilt and laughter.

_Honk, honnnnk!_

“All right, call me if you need anything,” Q said, checking his watch before he left Bond’s line of sight.

Bond didn’t reply to the query, just turned his head to face one of his two adversaries. Mary narrowed her eyes, and she flattened her body on the still-messy blankets on Q’s bed. Bond tilted his head, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Chelsea, please go get dressed,” he said, voice dropping slightly in warning. He didn’t look away from Mary as Chelsea slowly reappeared from behind the bed, head bowed as she scuttled past him and into her bedroom. _No stuffed animal then._  “Mary, this is my final warning. Cooperate, or you lose choosing-dinner privileges,” he said, briefly wondering why he had an easier time dealing with armed men and women than he did with the eight-year old wrapped up in blankets in front of him.

“ _Make_ me,” Mary hissed through clenched teeth, back muscles bunching up as she gripped the sheets.

_Oh, right. Because at this point with armed opponents, we start trying to kill each other._

Sending a quick prayer to some higher power that the neighbors wouldn’t call the police in the likely event Mary did start screaming, Bond slowly rolled his shoulders back. “One….two…” he began, hoping that she would cave in and he wouldn’t have to actually pick her up and carry her to the bathroom to get dressed.

Mary bared her teeth.

Bond sighed. And then began walking into the room.

Mary bolted, blankets flying into the air as she fell to the floor and crawled out from Bond’s reach and scrambled to her feet before running down the hall.

_I can’t believe I have to do this._

* * *

It took him a good twenty minutes—and several eardrum-splitting screeches—to first catch Mary, and then get her into some sort of outfit. It took him another ten minutes to pick her up and carry her out the front door towards the car. Chelsea followed him around once she’d finished getting dressed, and obediently went into the car as Bond wrestled with Mary.

Mary only stopped crying once Bond pulled out the driveway, even if he could still hear sniffling in the backseat. Chelsea stared out the window for the first part of the drive to the school, her face pulled into a neat little frown as she picked at her nails. Bond glanced in the rearview mirror every five minutes or so, unnerved with the silence from the two of them. Mary’s eyes were still pink and puffy, and she wiped at them with her jumper sleeve in one of the few moments Bond checked in the mirror. He sighed, glancing forward again, and tapped the steering wheel as he tried to think. Q would most likely have known how to coax the girls to talk again, but Bond couldn’t exactly ask him for advice now. _What do you talk about, anyway? Talking about school might set Mary off again, and I can’t have her crying when we get there._

“Uncle James, where did Uncle Alex go?” Chelsea asked suddenly, drawing Bond back into the present. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see her peering back at him with curiosity; it was unnerving how much like her mother she looked like in that moment. “Why did he have to leave before us?” she said, rocking her shoulders from side-to-side as Tess often did when she was about to needle one of the other Double-Os in a meeting or briefing.

“He’s teaching a class at the school, so he won’t be able to talk to either of you while he’s working,” Bond said, glancing at Mary; she only tilted her head towards him, but remained staring stubbornly out her own window. He suppressed a sigh, and then said, “I’ll be walking you both into the school while we’re going here. Today, I’m not going to leave right away because there is a meeting I have to go to,” he said, watching with interest as Mary finally turned around to look at him, expression still pinched in anger.

“Why, are you in trouble? Or are you going on a work trip too?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Mummy and Daddy go to meetings with the git when they’re in trouble or if they’re about to go on another work trip,” she said, Chelsea nodding in agreement beside her.

Bond snorted. “As much as I agree with you and your parents about Mallory, it may not be a good idea to call him a git. You might accidentally say that to his face,” he said, looking back to the road. He glanced down to check the directions that Q had written the night before, and then shifted lanes. “And no, my meeting is actually an orientation so that I know what kind of stuff they’ll be teaching you,” he said, offering a half-truth in an attempt to placate Mary. She didn't need to know that he was in fact going for a work-related meeting with the CIA agent posing as the headmaster.

It half-worked. She made a huffing sound, and flopped back in her seat. But she didn’t turn away from him, which Bond counted as a small victory.

New Sunrise Academy was only a mile or so from Lake Winnipesaukee, with expansive grounds that opened to a concrete car park and a playground barely visible from the front entrance. Ivy curled around the front brickwork, and Bond noted the fence that ran around the front of the school before it wrapped its way around the back. He was on what appeared to be a half-circle road that parents used to drop children off, but Bond watched the other cars ahead of him carefully, following a little red Mini Cooper into the car park itself. He carefully navigated his way through the mass of new arrivals, barely able to resist blasting the horn at a sleek blue Audi that nearly clipped his front bumper as it accelerated to snatch the empty slot that Bond had been lining up to take himself. He slowly exhaled, swallowing back the choice few words he’d had in mind as he turned his car in search of another spot. Pedestrians kept appearing between vehicles, and Bond flexed his fingers as a family of five walking towards the front doors drifted towards the middle of the lane, stretching across and blocking his way. He sighed, settling his foot on the brakes as he leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Mummy!”

Bond’s head snapped up to the rearview mirror to find Chelsea glued to the back end of her window, tiny fist banging against the glass. “ _Mummy!”_ she yelled, changing hands to smack her palm against the glass.

“Where?” Mary demanded, unbuckling her safety belt before turning around to look through the rear window. She straightened her spine, and then yelled, “ _Mummy!_ ”

 _Shit_. Bond turned around in his seat to look for himself, a familiar calm spreading through his limbs as he scanned the few rows of cars they had just passed, finally spotting Tess Lawson as she walked around the blue Audi from before; she looked every bit the regal fiancée of the man who followed her, but Bond wondered what it was costing her to maintain the illusion of normalcy. _Especially now that we know there is a threat_. “Girls, remember that we’re playing the invisible game,” he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth as both Chelsea and Mary bounced in their seats and continued smacking the glass in a bid to catch their mother’s attention. He felt a twinge of guilt as he looked forward and, upon finding the way clear again, accelerated the car so that he went back onto the drop-off road and went a few hundred meters to turn left back into the car park again, searching for an empty spot.

“But Mummy…”

“Remember what Daddy said about the invisible game,” Bond said, finally locating a spot and pulling into it. He glanced across the car park towards the school entrance; Tess was holding a little girl’s hand and her other arm was linked with a man that Bond didn’t recognize, but the man’s profile, when he glanced at Tess, loosely matched with the physical description of Rossmiller that Q had provided. He looked in the rearview mirror to find that the girls were now glued to the passenger window on the side closest to the entrance. “Chelsea? Mary?”

“I want Mummy,” Chelsea whispered, already reaching for the car door handle.

Bond rested a hand on his control panel and locked the doors before she could reach it—he couldn’t afford to lose the twins even with the reminder of the ‘invisible game’ Then he checked the couple again, watching as the couple disappeared into the school with Vanessa between them and bodyguards close behind. It wasn’t until then that he realized that the whimpers in the backseat were slowly rising in pitch that he refocused his attention on the twins still sitting behind him.

“Uncle James, why can’t I go see Mummy?”

Bond turned back around to find both Chelsea and Mary staring at him. “Because Mummy is working, and in order to help her leave her work trip, Uncle Alex and I need you both to pretend that she’s invisible. She can’t talk with either of you, and your father and I decided that it was best that you don’t talk to her either,” he explained quietly, heart twisting slightly when Chelsea tilted her head, confusion in her eyes as Mary’s shoulders slumped, lower lip wobbling as she slowly leaned back in her seat. Bond glanced back to the front doors, noting that while Rossmiller’s blue Audi was still in car park, the small entourage had disappeared into the school.

“Uncle James,” Chelsea whispered, tugging on Bond’s sleeve. When he turned back to her, she whispered, “What if my teacher doesn’t like me?” she asked, resting her chin against her chest.

“Then you remain nice to her, smile and wave if that helps, but tell me after,” Bond said, glancing back out the window before he unbuckled himself. “Neither of you move,” he warned before he unlocked his own door first, checking around the car park as he got out. He walked to Mary’s door and unlocked it, shifting position to block the potential escape route as he did so. “Give me your hand,” he said, softening his voice and kneeling slightly when Mary shied away from him. “Please.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, and then she quietly, albeit reluctantly, reached out and slipped her small hand into his before she slid out of the car. He guided her to the side before reaching inside again for her backpack. “Wait there, I’m coming around to get you,” he warned Chelsea, who nodded solemnly.

Bond helped Mary pull her backpack on, and then closed the door before walking around the car to Chelsea’s door, where he opened the door only to step back a moment later when she unbuckled herself and jumped out, her backpack nearly falling to the ground in her wake. Bond picked it up with his free hand, held it in place so she could get the straps on, and then used a foot to shut the car door behind them. After checking both ways for inevitable traffic, he then took Chelsea’s hand in his and nudged the two of them towards the school entrance.

He kept them close as they walked towards the double glass front doors, mindful of chattering children around them and ignoring the curious stares from nearby parents and nannies. Mary huddled close, her face nearly buried in Bond’s coat as Chelsea stared at her surroundings, distracted enough that Bond had to tug gently on her hand at least three times in a silent reminder to keep up with them. Bond himself only felt discomfort at the environment; the small courtyard in front of the doors was packed with people as he walked with two children of his coworker’s, both hands occupied. He did catch a few unconcealed flickers of interest from several women, but then Mary let out a squeak and immediately attached herself to Bond’s leg, nearly tripping all three of them.

Bond gritted his teeth, but managed to retain his balance even as he reflexively let go of Chelsea’s hand to steady himself. “Chelsea, come here,” he said through clenched teeth, extending his free hand as he rested his other hand on Mary’s shoulders, feeling slight tremors through her jacket. “Come here,” he repeated when Chelsea tilted her head at another child nearby, ignoring him. He let out a sigh of relief when she finally obeyed and took his hand again. “All right, Mary, what’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling to Mary’s eye-level as she tried to bury her face into his lapels.

He thought he heard muffled words. Before he could ask for clarification, an unfamiliar male voice asked, “Is everything all right?”

Bond looked up, and felt his blood run cold.

Rossmiller, without Vanessa or Tess in tow, offered a friendly smile as he knelt down to Bond’s level. He gestured to Mary. “Is everything all right?” he repeated, dark eyes shifting from Bond to Mary to Chelsea and then back to Bond.

“Yes, first day nerves,” Bond said, pulling Chelsea closer to him so that she stood next to her sister within his line of sight. He glanced back at Rossmiller, who was once again studying Chelsea with thinly veiled interest. _Damn, how close do the girls resemble their mother?_ “Their mother, who is also my sister, couldn’t make it today and asked me to drop them off, she had a few things to settle at her new job in Concord this morning,” he added, careful not to react as he felt damp spots forming on the front of his shirt as Mary’s shoulders shook harder. “We also had a bit of a rough morning,” he said, glancing up at Chelsea and raising a brow when she offered a sweet smile to Rossmiller.

Rossmiller tutted thoughtfully under his breath. “You’re part of that new exchange program, correct?” he asked, and Bond nodded. “Well, my advice would have been to introduce them to the headmaster, he had a knack for calming new children down, but it appears that Mr. Robertson went on sabbatical this term. Carl Stephens has taken his place for now, but I’m not sure if I approve of his appointment,” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder. Bond followed his gaze to spot a young well-dressed man— _the CIA contact in the school_ —greeting parents as their children huddled close to them. “He claims to have studied at Johns Hopkins, but I doubt it. He could show me all the certificates in his office, and I still wouldn’t trust him.”

“Why not?” Bond asked, feigning curiosity.

Rossmiller shrugged. “Because he was not hired through proper channels, and the school board was only informed of his appointment. Usually, we, as in the board and the chair committee, decide the appointment for the headmaster, or interim headmaster as it may be in this case,” he said, shaking his head before turning back towards Bond. “I’m still not sure as to who authorized his appointment, as I did not know of the transition until a few weeks ago.” He inclined his head towards Bond. “Well, good luck on your first day, I suppose.”

“Thank you.”

Bond then stood up, herding the girls towards the front doors. Mary tightly clutched his hand, occasionally using her sleeve to wipe her eyes. Mindful that Tess would be in the vicinity, Bond kept a firm grip on their hands as he lead them forward, not missing the way that Mary was looking around at the other parents. He glanced up only briefly to make eye contact with Stephens; the man inclined his head slightly with a raised brow— _good, he knows_ —before turning to another parent that had approached him. Bond, meanwhile, shepherded the girls towards their new homeroom teacher and classroom, already taking in what he could of the halls despite the numerous parents still lingering with teachers.

One morning down, roughly fifty-nine left to go.

* * *

It wasn’t until much later that morning that, armed with his new role of chief security officer at the academy, Bond returned to the house with the intention of returning to the school in order to join Felix with the initial reconnaissance the school grounds. Setting the uniform aside, he immediately reached into the duffel to pull out the Walther PPK that Q had given him the night before the girls had arrived to the house two days ago. Pulling out its usual shoulder holster, he put both items on top of the uniform that Stephens had provided for him.

Then he saw the paper bag lunches still sitting on the kitchen counter next to a now-cold cup of coffee.

He groaned, resting his forehead against the wall.

_And to think I was so close to getting it right._


End file.
